Symbiotic Relationship: Chapter Three

Loki grit his teeth as he saw the spell headed straight for him, coming too quickly to block or dodge entirely. He glanced over as he felt Stark, in full Iron Man regalia, give his shoulder a shove as he directed the rest of his force towards Thor in a flying tackle. Undoubtedly meant to move Loki out of the way, it instead barely made him shift his weight, the mortal's one-armed push doing little to move a god.

He felt the spell hit him in the chest and his back arched of its own accord, crying out as he crashed to the ground, feeling like he had just been hit with Mjolnir. Twice. He was caught off guard as he felt himself lifted into the air and propelled none-too-gently towards Stark. They collided hard, both falling to the ground again, his legs tangled with Stark's, and Stark's heavy metal arm thrown across Loki's throat, which was a disconcerting feeling to say the least. He had been sensitive about anything touching his throat ever since the life was nearly choked out of him repeatedly by the disgusting Chitauri, their clammy, vice-like hands fastening around him, squeezing until his eyeballs bulged in their sockets.

He shook the memory off and forced himself up, looking at the spot where Amora had just been standing, replaying her words in his head. "Brothers torn apart…help you rebuild…" Oh this was very bad. Loki could say with no doubt, definitely extremely bad. His hand hovered over his chest where the spell had struck, shaking slightly, before he dropped his gaze to Stark, the inevitable truth sinking in. A binding spell. It had to be a bloody binding spell. That bitch. Judging by the way their bodies had careened towards each other, and how now, even through their armor, there was an unsettling tingling where his legs touched Stark's and where the mortal's arm had fallen to land against his hip when he had sat up, there was no doubt left in his mind.

He had no idea how long he had before the effects of the spell set in, nor did he have any idea exactly which spell had been used, which left him precious little time to return to his home and work on finding a way to break it. Without a second thought, he braced himself for the pain of separation from the bond, and teleported away. The last he saw of the rooftop was Thor stretching out a hand towards him. Left just in time then, he thought bitterly to himself.

When he arrived at the apartment he kept rented on Midgard, a shock of pain coursed through his veins, momentarily taking his breath away. He slowly began to breathe again though, and pushed any discomfort to the far back corners of his mind. There were more important matters at hand. Like how the Hel to ensure that he didn't spend the rest of his days bound to a fucking avenger.

At that thought, another worrisome thought struck Loki: What would happen if one of them died? Amora wouldn't have cast a spell that would be broken upon death, she wouldn't have risked Loki killing Thor to get away from him. Would the remaining survivor be slowly driven to insanity? He was bound to a mortal. Did that limit his life to another 30, maybe 50 years at most before he faced unending agony for the rest of his immortal existence?

He had to find a way to break the enchantment. Or a counter-spell. Something, anything, being trapped like this was unacceptable. He had spent too much of his life in both literal and figurative bonds already, his life was finally his own, he wouldn't give that up. His heart was thudding in his chest so hard he wondered if it might burst. And wouldn't that just be humiliating.

Forcing air in and out of his lungs painfully slowly, he went to the wall of books he had gathered, both from Midgard and from Asgard, as well as various texts he had acquired on his travels of late, and began pulling any and all spellbooks and volumes on sorcery that he could find. There had to be something…

Ten hours later, and he had found nothing. He could not find a single blasted spell or counter that fit whatever Amora had done. What an evil quim. His hands were shaking and he wasn't sure if it was from rage or pain or exhaustion. Probably a combination. Sighing in resignation, he knew what he had to do. He would be sharper, he would think much more clearly if he didn't have to devote so much energy to compartmentalizing and managing the pain. He would teleport to the mortal man's tower while he still had the energy to do so. He felt a sudden twinge of guilt seep into his mind when his thoughts fell to Stark. He had undoubtedly been suffering greatly this entire time. If he was honest with himself, Loki had lost track of the time completely, so absorbed in the hunt for a solution that the hours had slipped by, even as the pain grew. Had he been paying more attention, it's possible he would have sought out Stark sooner to spare them both a bit of pain, but the prospect of ending this entire fiasco without ever having to be near him, to feel a pull, to feel trapped had been too appealing.

He was forced to accept now though that there was no other solution and time was running short before he would be an incoherent mess, able to do nothing but wish for the end…again. How many times had he been in that position? How many times had he wished for the sweet nothingness of death? More than he was willing to be honest with himself about. The injustice of it made his blood boil.

For as long as he could remember, his life had not been his own. Cast out at birth by a monster of a father who did not want him, only to be picked up by someone of possibly equal cruelty, who would use him as a pawn. To spend his entire life trying to please Odin, trying to earn enough respect from his broth – from Thor – to walk alongside him and not behind. To make a terrible mistake in an effort to gain their respect and lose them both entirely in the process, only to find himself very much trapped and very much alone drifting in the vast oblivion. Then he was found, by the Chitauri, by Thanos, and he thought he had found a savior. He thought he belonged. His mind became susceptible, and like a puppetmaster, Thanos had placed little seeds of thought, little influences here and there, scattered throughout his mind like landmines. He hadn't even realized what had happened until the great green beast had maimed him and it was over.

And then Asgardian justice…oh, Asgardian justice. Physical torment and torture on an unimaginable scale, and more mind games than even the God of Mischief could have known. It had seemed to go on forever, his imprisonment, his punishment, although upon his release he was informed it was almost no time at all. Then for 6 blissful months, he had been free. He could roam The Nine Realms, roam the entire galaxy, meet creatures who did not know him, who did not judge him. Occasionally even lend a magical hand, which actually earned him gratitude, a pleasant surprise. He had felt elation like he had never known. To be the master of his own fate, to be in control of his own life, it made his blood sing just to think of it. And now this. He could practically feel the chains weighing him down as he thought about being bound to the man of iron. It made it worse, made it hurt more, to feel this now after having had a taste of freedom.

He pushed the miserable thoughts away, back into the dark corners of his mind where so many unsavory things dwelled. The only thing to do now was to go to Stark, recover, and gauge the situation from there. Perhaps if he spent a day with Stark, he could then come back and research for a few days without him, and return when needed to refuel, as it were.

Or perhaps, the cynical part of his mind said, perhaps you don't get to refuel. Perhaps it isn't a reservoir to be filled, and you will be in anguish every moment you are apart. You will never have another moment to yourself, much less another day. You might as well belong to The Avengers now…

Loki took a deep breath to steady himself. If he could not be apart from Stark, then he would bring Stark back with him. Stark could sit silently by as Loki researched a way to end this predicament. He smirked to himself trying to picture Start sitting idle and quiet. That was an unlikely scenario. But he had to admit, of all of the mortals he had encountered, Stark was one of the cleverest by far. He could probably even aid Loki in research, help them to reach a solution faster. Yes, he would make this work. He would regain his freedom.

Feeling better about the situation, and beginning to notice more pain creeping into his awareness, he closed his eyes and pictured Stark's tower.

He appeared in the only room he was familiar with, the common area, but once he was in the same building as Stark, it was easy to pinpoint his location for a more accurate destination. He paused only long enough to look up at Captain America, who had dropped his bowl of cereal on the ground with a crash, mouth open and eyes comically wide as he stared at Loki standing in the living room.

"Hello," Loki said casually, before vanishing on the spot, leaving a flabbergasted Steve Rogers in his wake, spinning around wildly, looking for any sign of danger.

He landed next in Tony's bedroom, staggering a bit as his energy and focus wore thin, but almost immediately feeling a physical surge of relief hit his body and wash over him like a wave. It certainly took the edge off of the pain that had been wrecking havoc on him.

He started to move instinctually towards the prone man on the bed when a slight cough from the opposite side of the room stopped him dead in his tracks. He quickly looked over to find none other than the doctor, the hulk, staring back at him. The quiet man with the roaring beast inside who could literally rip him limb from limb in seconds. He felt an uncommon burst of fear course through him and his hands shook slightly. Just his luck to break into the tower and then unknowingly trap himself in a room with the one avenger who actually posed a threat. He was weak to begin with, after the curse taking its toll and a double teleportation, there was no way he stood a chance. He swallowed hard, keeping eye contact with the man who did nothing but sigh and rub the back of his neck, as though displeased by the fear he could feel coming off of Loki in waves.

"Look, I've got it under control, alright? I seriously doubt you're here to hurt the person you were bound to, and actually, we've kind of been hoping you would show up for a while. So don't do anything evil, don't give me any reason to get angry, and we're fine. You're fine here. Okay?" Bruce addressed Loki in quiet, somewhat resigned tones. Loki swallowed again and nodded, still wary, but subconsciously began to creep closer to Stark.

"So you know it's a binding spell?" Loki asked him, now playing with the edge of the blanket on Stark's bed. He felt another burst of guilt as he looked down at the mortal. Stark was sweating and twitching every once in a while, and seemed completely unaware of his surroundings. Banner watched him carefully, maybe to make sure he didn't harm Stark, maybe to see if his presence helped him. He didn't know, but to be honest, as long as he wasn't throwing him through walls and floors, he didn't care. He did find himself slightly self-conscious now that he was here though, particularly with the other man watching his interaction with Stark so closely. He felt more of a pull to Stark than he had been expecting as well, which was certainly more than a little bit disconcerting.

"Thor told us that was his best guess. He wasn't completely sure what the details were though… Do you know more about it? I mean, Tony already seems better, just with you nearby. He was crying out and thrashing around quite a bit more than that before you got here. As soon as you came in though, he calmed down," Bruce said and paused, waiting for a response, but when Loki seemed unsure of what to say, Bruce prodded a bit more. "So is that as good as it gets? Or will it help more if you like, touch him or something?" Bruce asked somewhat awkwardly.

Loki was more than a little surprised by this last question. For some reason he thought that the other Avengers would be appalled by him even being in the vicinity, not to mention adamantly opposed to any real contact with Stark, so he had been waiting until they were alone to try anything else.

"I am unsure," Loki answered honestly, "I still do not know the specifics of the spell and was not even certain you would approve of my presence here, much less anything in addition to that. You're certain your beast will not make an appearance if I try?" he asked, hating the way his voice almost wavered at the end.

"Well," Bruce gave him a small smile, "I'm not saying you can molest him or anything, but yeah, try, I don't know, try touching his arm or something. Baby steps," he said, with a bit of a laugh.

Loki almost caught himself smiling at the man's dry humor, as he leaned closer to Stark. Hesitantly, he reached out his hand and clasped it lightly around Stark's forearm.

Nearly all of the remaining pain receded so quickly that Loki almost fell over. Stark almost immediately stilled as well and took a deep breath that almost turned into a contented sigh when he let it out. He kept breathing easily.

Loki slowly sank to his knees next to the bed, not removing his hand from Tony's arm, muscles relaxing for the first time since the rooftop.

"I take it that helped?" Bruce asked Loki, eyebrows raised at both of their reactions.

"Yes," breathed Loki, not even having the energy to look up from his position on the floor.

The arm beneath his hand shifted slightly and Loki's head snapped up. Looking right back at him was Anthony Stark, wide-eyed and alert.