I drew Harry and Loki sitting on the throne in Asgard as a present for Little Miss Xanda a year ago. I wrote a story to go along with it. This is that story.
Loki's pov. Present tense. Slash, Harry/Loki.
Harry and Loki
Words:1 573
It has been a long road. At times I thought that it would never end—or that it would end all too soon, as the case may be. I went after a Titan. The very Titan who had already bested me once, warping me so that everything bad that was locked in my mind was drawn forth and put at the front. It angers me to think of what it made me. I became unforgivingly vicious, and monumentally arrogant, which made me a fool, and I despise that. Oh, how filled with loathing I was, loathing for everything. I couldn't wait to see it all destroyed. Power was only an excuse I used to exercise the deep-set hatred the Titan had created from my misgivings and hurt.
However, like the promise of morning after the darkest hour of the night, Harry came. Harry saw through my pain and the hate, hate, HATE. He saw that there was more to me. He saw that I was a victim too; he saw that I had been a reduced to a small, scared, hurt boy when I found out about my heritage and that Thanos had used that to sharpen me into a tool of chaos and destruction. Harry did for me what no one else had done before; he gave me the benefit of doubt.
Oh, but it wasn't that easy. It never is. I fought him every step of the way, which is not strange considering when we first met. It was in Stuttgart and then we were enemies. It was natural for us to be enemies—the hero and the villain. We must have seemed like mirror images with our dark hair, pale skin, and magical talents. Yet we couldn't have been more different with hearts shaded in grey at different ends of the spectrum. When Harry later understood that I was—innocent isn't the right word, but not fully responsible either, when he understood that I was the slave to another's will and to the darker aspects of myself, he traveled to Asgard. He made the journey without help from anyone but his mortal friends. It took him a long time to learn how to do it and by the time he arrived I had managed to give an enemy directions that lead to the death of one of the only people who've ever mattered to me; additionally, I had also usurped Odin's throne.
Harry confronted me as I sat on that throne—scheming to cause more destruction—and again we fought. But that was not what Harry wanted to do. He told me that he had come for my sake, to help me. I only laughed mockingly and told him to be more concerned about himself because he would soon die. What a fool I was. And he knew it. But I could not see. I could not clearly hear the words he spoke to me. Pain and hatred were still a veil across my mind.
Somehow—probably because of my arrogance—Harry bested me and without my consent, he started the process that rid my mind of Thanos's influence. The cure was worse than the disease. The memories I have from that time are the worst I have. Yet I lived. I learned. And revenge was mine.
"Are you happy?" Harry asks me. He has his back to the image of Yggdrasil that floats in the throne room. Everything in its branches is ours to do with as we wish; the golden glove set with six stones sitting beneath the image has seen to that.
"No," I reply.
Harry frowns, the skin on his nose scrunching up. "What's missing?" he asks. "You have everything."
Harry gestures to Yggdrasil, to the universe; yet all I can look at is the wizard. This amazing human who has reshaped me for the better, while still allowing me to be myself. The feelings I have for him are strong. Gratitude. Loyalty. Awe.
More intimate emotions. Friendship. Desire. Love.
"I don't have everything," I say. "I don't have you." Do I sound bitter? Tender? Both. Neither. I cannot tell how he understands it. But I am being honest, and that is difficult.
Harry shakes his head lightly, light jumping off his glasses, while the light of his eyes is hidden behind lowered eyelashes.
"I can't be owned," he says.
"I know that, and you should know that that's not what I want."
"I never meant for you to fall in love with me."
"Of course not. You only wished to help someone. And then you wanted to save the world, and you saw a chance through me. That you did all of that without seeking something from me was precisely what enabled this love."
The throne I sit on is large, big enough for both of us to lounge comfortably; I want him next to me, but as he won't come to me, I will have to go to him. I rise and walk up to Harry.
"I know I'm not alone in feeling this."
I've seen the way he looks at me. At first, there was pity. Later it changed to fondness, liking. And then heat had appeared in his gaze, mixing with the other positive emotions.
"Can you not allow yourself to feel it, now that it's all over? I'm not at risk of dying anymore."
That's what I believe it to be about. Harry's lost too many people in his short life; he isn't willing to love if he might lose that love.
"But you will die," he says. "Nothing lasts forever."
Harry calls himself a wizard, but he is more. He has an unprecedented connection to death, and in facing Thanos he had taken on an aspect of death, becoming even more changed. It is unclear if Harry can die.
"There are ways to cheat death," I say.
"No." Though the word is whispered, it hits me like a swing of Mjolnir.
I shake myself, shrugging off the effects of Harry's power. I'm not intimidated by him. I know that he won't hurt me. Besides, I'm insulted. "Do not compare me to Tom Riddle. I'm not the second villain of your life. I would never mutilate my own soul like him. I have other ideas in mind."
Harry bites his teeth together, staying silent.
"Lies are the web I weave."
He snorts. "Good show on convincing me that you're not a villain."
I smirk. "What is the universe?" I ask.
"Energy," he answers promptly. Since wearing the Infinity Gauntlet, it's all become clear to him. "Intelligence given form."
"Thought given form," I change his choice of word. "A story unfolding. Stories can be true, or they can be lies. Lie well enough and you'll be believed. If the lie is believed for long enough, it becomes truth. No one will be able to tell the difference."
"You cannot lie your way to immortality."
"Perhaps not, but you are proving that it is easy to lie your way to misery. You lie to yourself about your feelings to protect yourself. Become the truth to my lie. Be honest with yourself and grant us both happiness."
I take his hand and lead him to the throne. He does not resist. He sits down next to me. Heat spreading from where our thighs touch. We watch Yggdrasil. A kingdom far grander than the one I madly longed for at the beginning of the journey that brought us together.
As if reading my thoughts Harry speaks."We will not rule the world."
Resistance rises its hackles within me, growling fiercely. I believed I wanted the throne for so long. The lie did become the truth. I still believe in the lie. But I know that it is a lie and I stomp it down.
"Who shall rule?" I ask.
"The people."
"Democracy? People are foolish. They cannot look after themselves."
"They'll learn."
"And if the world burns?"
"We'll just have to put out the flames. Or guide heroes to do it."
"Do you not care about the people who'll die in the fire?"
I don't care myself; I might have played a part in saving the universe from the Mad Titan, but I'll never be a proper hero. I'll never be like Thor, and that's okay because Thor will never sit next to Harry like this.
"They have to be allowed to make mistakes," Harry says. "Free will is important. Otherwise, everything becomes pointless. If we lose free will we become one with nature. We fall away from time to become everything, everywhere. To sentient beings, that's as good as being nothing." Harry's eyes are far away as he speaks. "Harmony. Balance. Unity."
I place a hand on his leg to draw him back to me—I won't lose him to the unity of the universe.
"All right," I say. "We forego the crown."
I don't point out to him that I like how he says we, establishing us. I wait for him to make the next move, even as the heat I feel continues to grow. It burns my leg, the palm of my hand, everywhere our bodies touch.
I move my hand to cup his face, stroking my thumb across his cheekbone. "Say yes. Say we'll be one."
He shakes his head, no, but the word that moves past his smiling lips are the ones I've been longing to hear. "Yes, Loki. Yes."
The End.