Prologue: Before the Beginning
Mortals are such pathetic beings.
Once again, Loki found himself rounding questions of humanity through his skull. Specifically, why he still aspired to find any within these lowly pests. The god growled as he was once again shuffled into a 'store of thrift' and shoved into an unoccupied corner by the cockroaches of Midgard. Just another pointless search for a remarkable gift. On this visit, he found himself craving what he did not have. Why in the nine he thought he would find it on this loathsome planet, let alone in the most revolting interurban he'd ever laid eyes on. Forcing himself back into the street past the crowds, he glanced around at the surrounding buildings, all-pushing towards the sky. Grimaces covered the faces of the simpletons around him, each uttering a minor curse towards him for simply being alive. Truly this species of insect is completely hopeless.
Loki turned his head skyward, about to call on Heimdall, when a passing paper smacked across his face. He growled in frustration glaring at the colored ink that dare interfere with his movements. STARK AT IT AGAIN! Was splashed across the front in bright crimson. Scanning thoroughly through the paragraphs underneath, Loki found what he was looking for. This man, this Howard Stark, was a brilliant inventor, an enervator among common peasants. The mischief prince smirked, perhaps there was still hope for these pitiful maggots, and made his way off towards a dark alley, where he could teleport himself without stirring up the crowd.
When he first arrived at Stark mansion, Loki felt a thrill; it certainly looked like a place worthy of a king. On further examination, however, the prince found it to be lacking. Unlike the walls of the palace, this building felt entirely unlived in, causing the trickster to question himself. Was it possible that they simply weren't home? It was a sound idea, although that shouldn't have altered his magic in anyway, since he had locked on Howard Stark's aura, rather than a specific location. Slinking quietly through the desolate hallways, the uncertainty plagued heavily on his thoughts. Details flew past his subconscious, silencing any possibility. Howard Stark was in this house, and, if he wasn't mistaken, two others as well. Then Loki heard it, shifting behind the door down the hall. He walked steadfast in its direction, stopping just before opening. Something felt off, wrong to the god. He didn't feel intelligence in the atmosphere, only pain and heartbreak.
Pushing his way in, Loki froze at the so-called visionary in front of him. The man didn't appear very intelligent to the mischief god, and based on the bottles cluttered around his table, he didn't act smart either. Loki stared at this sad excuse of a human, passed out in a drunken haze with marked out maps littering around his elbows. This is the best this realm has to offer? This? Shaking his head, Loki turned to make his way out. He would just have to tell father that Midgard had nothing remarkable to be found.
As he fisted the doorknob, however, a little voice stopped him, "D-Daddy? Can I talk to you?"
The handle shook under his hand, and Loki released his grip, cloaking himself at the same moment. With a swing, the door opened revealing a small brown haired child in star and stipe pajamas. This time, Loki felt it clouding the air. Brilliance, creativity, imagination, all radiating from this sad-eyed little boy. Loki felt a shiver run down his back, a beautiful mind born in a forsaken world, where had he heard that before? With his stomach unclenching, Loki came to realize that this was what he was waiting for. Someone, or something with a mind rivaled solely by his own. Another brain itching for ever piece of knowledge available to it. And he'd found the mind on Midgard, a precious rose among the rotting weeds.
Blinking, the trickster found himself staring at the child, now standing next to his inebriated father. Tentatively lifting his tiny hand, the boy shook the man's shoulder. Crazed eyes snapped open in a daze, searching back and forth, before finally landing on the genius child. Howard Stark glared at the boy with a mighty hatred, his continued slumber now forgotten.
"Anthony, what have I told you about coming in here when I'm working. Get out. Now." He growled furiously, blatant loathing coating every word.
Anthony shook slightly under his fathers gaze, but held his chin up in slight defiance, "I-I need to s-show you something, daddy. I-I made it myself."
Out of the pocket of his onesie, the genius child produced out a small green board. Along the coating, there appeared to be separate lines leading down and around the framework. While the god didn't particularly know what it was, he still found it quite fascinating. The man barely even glanced at it, "I don't have time for this. Maria! The boy's in here again, distracting me from my work. Take care of it."
Another, more feminine, voice called back, "I'm going to be late for the gala, Howard, I can't skip this one. He's your son, take him to his room."
Anthony remained persistent, "Look, it's a circuit board, just like y-you make. I-I made it m-myself. Well… Obie helped tweak it a little… B-But I did the programming alone and-and," Howard clamped his hands down on the small rectangle, and brought it up in front of his nose with a critical eye. Anthony smiled happily at the attention, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet in anticipation. Elation coated the boys face, only to fall when the man dropped his creation in a basket next to the desk with a definite 'plop'. Howard met his sons teary gaze with one of his own, tired and irritable.
"Terrible, again. God, why can't you just do the simplest of things right? It shouldn't be this difficult for a genius. Do you want to keep disgracing your family, Anthony? Because right now, I am so disappointed in you that it hurts to call you my son. Go to your room, before you give me another reason to disown you." Howard turned to his maps, missing his sons reaction.
Anthony wiped fervently at his eyes, refusing to let a single tear slip past his defenses. Glancing back once, only to see his father ignoring him, the boy rushed out of the room as fast as his little feet could carry him. Loki felt a pull to follow the child, but first stepped towards the bin that held his device. It had to have some sort of non-monetary value; otherwise the boy wouldn't have reacted so strongly to the disapproval. If it could possibly cheer the boy up, then it was definitely worth having. A creak alerted him to the fact that he had been very well caught, a gasp sealing the fact.
"Who's there? I know you in here, come out and face me like a man!" Howard stood, his eye scanning his surroundings for an intruder. Seeing as he'd already been found out, Loki revealed himself to the human.
He smirked at the man's gaping mouth, finding it much to amusing. Oh yes, he would have fun with this man.
"W-Who are you? Never mind, I'm calling the cops." He reached forward cupping the telephones arch tightly, before yanking his fingers back when the smooth surface shifted in to rough scales and a hiss followed his hand back. With wide, terrified pupils, Howard locked onto the trickster's eyes. Fearful brown on infuriated emerald.
"I am Loki, god of mischief, Prince of Asgard, and you, Howard Stark," Loki smirked "Have invoked my wrath."
Howard began shaking, quaking in unhindered terror. The trickster found himself smiling wider at the man's horror, even chuckling darkly when the man began spewing undecipherable apologies.
"Silence, foolish mortal, do not anger me further. I have come to deliver swift justice upon the worst filth in the nine realms, and here I have found you, worthless wretch," Loki lifted the device from the garbage, "and your son."
Pride for now overlooked, Howard fell to his knees, "Please, kill me, but leave my boy out of this. I know I don't deserve forgiveness, I'm the inventor of death, but don't hurt my son, please, not my little Tony." He was practically slobbering over himself by now, face bowed in both fear and resignation.
Loki sighed, "Alright, Tony will be fine," Howard glanced up hopefully, "with me."
The god vanished from sight, reappearing seconds later in a completely different room. Where as the office had bland whitewash walls, this room practically oozed color. Though, the more Loki looked, the main scheme was red, white, and blue. A larger poster hung by a nail above Tony's bed, demanding the viewer buy something called a 'war bond' from a man in a ridiculous red, white and… oh. Interesting. The dresser and floor were covered in comic books, action figures, and other memorabilia; all based off someone proclaimed the 'Captain of the America's'. The child even had a, clearly, homemade costume, complete with circular shield emblazoned with a star. So the boy was clearly a fan of whoever the strange pointing man on the poster happened to be. Speaking of the little boy, where was he?
Swiftly turning his heels, Loki caught sight of a small quivering ball in the corner. Tony curled in on himself, cuddling a figure of the poster-man close to his chest. Closer inspection illuminate that while Tony took a protective cover over the toy, it was clear that he used it as a lifeline. The trickster god felt a pang of pity, remembering when he was in a similar situation with Thor and his friends.
Approaching like one would an injured animal, Loki spoke quietly, "Are you the son of Stark?"
The boy looked up with puffy, red eyes, "I-I don't know… Who are you? If you're a k-kidnapper, then y-your out of luck. Howard doesn't p-pay ransoms."
"I am not here to kidnap you, Anthony Stark," Loki noted the visible flinch at his full name, "Tony. Rather I am here to offer you a proposition."
Tony stilled in his weeping, large brown eyes gazing distrustfully at the god, "You didn't answer my question. Who are you?"
The god blinked, not expecting the turn of demeanor from the boy, "I am Loki-"
"The god of mischief? No way." Tony exclaimed, disbelief drenched in sarcasm dripping in his tone. Loki once again found himself amazed by the intellect of such a small child. Most grown Midgardians didn't know about the Aesir, so it came as somewhat of a surprise that one, who couldn't have been more than five or six, by this realm's years, could know of them. This one was worthy, Loki was sure of that. Oh, yes; the All-Father will be proud of his choice.
"Aye, would you like me to show you, little one?" With a nod of his head, the god allowed his magic to coat the young boy, green smoke dancing across his torso and down his legs, before finally pulling back into Loki. A wide grin played at his lips, as he pointed Tony to a mirror. A high pitch squeal covers the room, and Loki grins slyly at the child.
"You turned me into a girl?" Tony screamed in utter dismay.
The mischievous prince allowed an somewhat evil sneer to play on his lips, "Would you have believed me if I simply pulled a rabbit out of a hat? I think not."
"You still didn't have to turn me into a girl!" The shriek was followed by the sound of footsteps outside the room, and Loki knew his time was up. With a twist of his wrist, Tony returned to male-hood, eliciting another, though slightly deeper, squeal from the protégé.
"That is so cool! Can I do that? Can you teach me? Oh my god! I really am talking to you! This is the most amazing moment of my life-!" A hand clamped over the excited boy, cutting off his jabbering rant.
Looking Tony directly in the eyes, Loki offered his peace; "I wish to take you away from here, Tony. I recognize that the life you have been shoveled into is displeasing to a genius such as yourself, and plan to take you somewhere you'll never have to experience disappointment ever again." Loki finished with a rise, reaching out a hand in invitation but offering no further objectives, stilling any further movements. Tony had a choice, and Loki didn't plan on taking that away from the genius either.
Arms still clutching tightly to the plaything, Tony glanced back and forth between the offered appendage and Loki's electric eyes. Contemplations ran over the boy's face, and while the tension had eased slightly, Tony still looked rather distrustful of the god. Which, of course, was completely natural; Loki was the god of mischief and lies, after all. The footfalls outside the door turn erratic and grow louder with each step, the person (most likely Howard) obviously overhearing their voices.
Gazing down at the toy, Tony whispered, "Never, ever?"
With a soft smile playing on his lips, Loki responded.
"Never, ever."
Pounding erupted the steady silence, frantic calls belched from a frantic father. Tony stared at the door, and for a moment Loki swore he would go open it. Instead, the protégé reached out and clasped his tiny hand in Loki's much larger one. Without missing a beat, the trickster called out to Heimdall to beam them home.
A/N: Just the beginning. R/R.