Sometimes, Tony wished there was a girl, a boy, something. Someone to hate, to held responsible of everything and focus the burn on. But he was alone.
Loki came to him first. He was the claimed genius, the specialist in all matters of technology and power sources. Or so the newspaper called him. And the Tessaract was nothing more than a huge reactor. Tony was here to welcome him. A trans-universe bridge isn't exactly something you miss when it opens in your own house. Unfortunately you do have to be in a fit state to answer the warning. And Tony was not. Loki thought he would meet a scientist but what he saw when the bridge opened was an empty shell. He was on the floor, surrounded by a sea of empty bottles, water wings after a shipwrecked. In front of him, the video of his father was going on a loop, followed by waves of files and home made films. Tony 4, smiling. Tony 6, proudly showing a circuit board to a father who ignored him. Those washed away by the fake smile of a businessman all over cover magazines. Loki wasn't feeling anything for this man. But he still came back a week later. He wanted to see. To get more than a glimpse of a sinking ship. What he saw next week was a man elbow deep in grease, drops of sweat matched by a frown of concentration. Tony was building, swimming in the blue dimmed light of thousands of computer screens. Numbers were distorting around him, shaping, twisted in his fingers into equations. Perfect. Loki came back next week. This time he had a chair waiting for him. This was their relationship. Loki knew he was proded, watched every single moments., his faces sprawling into Tony's screen.
When he stole the tessaract, he knew that Tony already read his files hundreds of times. Knew he was tracked. He only smiled
Tony wanted to tear him apart, to destroy, to open him and reveal putrefied truths. But he knew that behind Loki's mask, there was nothing. Only envy, combusting him to the core and shaping him into an animated doll of ashes. When he hit him, he expected him to crumble, half hoped each punch would tore parts of him. But Loki only laughed. He knew that he was leftover dust but he accepted it. Eaten by a desire to possess but biting it back. He was free. He burned his past and only blamed himself when his world fell apart. His decision, his consequences. Liberty was draped around his shoulders, pooling at his feet and tripping him but still shining even brighter each time he enslaved a soul. His kingdom, his new life. Forged in death and tears but nevertheless his. Now Loki was bounded, chained to the core, his magic crashing against his cuffs and reeling at their edge in waves of nausea green. Asgardian metal and asgardian cloths tight around him but tainted by vengeance and blood. But he still was free. Tony was jealous, so jealous.
When Loki threw him out of the window, he realized that he'll fall. Oh, Mark V would still get him up, soaring in the air ready for battle. But he still would fall. Because his past was chaining him, modeling his every thought. He was ashamed. Ashamed of what he did, of what he chose to ignore. You're not the first weapon marker without closing your eyes to flashing proofs. His hands where covered with blood. And he'll still cry them until the end to pay for his crimes. But he was jealous… so jealous…