Today it is the rain that drags forth memories not old enough to have lost their bitter edge.
Anthony's plans for a 'picnic' had gone astray due to the sky opening up above us just as we made to leave the great hall.
The atmosphere was poor, something seemed to be weighing on his mind as heavily as my thoughts were weighing on mine. We soon went our separate ways, parting too briefly to say a satisfying goodbye. I did not think much of it then, but now I nurse a small ache for more time spent with him.

Rain.
It never rained in Jotunheim. Ice would pelt from the sky and strike our homes and bodies. Heavy, damp snow would stick to you, driven by the harsh wind. On those gentile days, the flakes would fall in silence.

I dislike the rain. It reminds me that I am neither home, nor anywhere I can call home. I remember that I am alone, surrounded by our thousand year old enemies. Soon to be married to man so different from me that I cannot fathom how we will continue on.

This mood has carried me into memories I would rather forget. Memories that my scars will never let me forget.

Loki was the fastest out of anyone his age. He needed to be fast, because he was always the one running away from the others.
Unfortunately, fate was often kinder to his perusers. His own cousin was the one who would come up with clever traps, sending a small avalanches of snow and ice to smother him. Then, they would dig him out, already half unconscious, and start their game.

They would pass him between them, one catching and turning him around while the other buried their massive fists into him. Knees would drive up into his chest, fracturing his more brittle bones. They always aimed for his torso, forcing him to hide their work under clothing. Because he was small, because he was thin, he would break under their onslaught of blows.

Finally, something new broke. There was a resounding crack that echoed throughout the crevasse they had tricked him into. His cousin ceased his attack at the sound, and stared at Loki with a look of disgust. The others jeered and let him go, pushing him into the ice to stand back and laugh.

Loki stayed still, his lower jaw hanging loosely from his face. His muscles, sinew, bones all were battered. The blood that poured from his split skin and insides stained the snow. His deep blue skin was bruised into black.

Too beaten to make sense of anything, he tried to talk. The initial shock shed away, slipping into maddening pain. With all his will power, Loki shut it out, kept his head low, and didn't make another sound.

That was the farthest they had ever taken things before, and they knew that this time it would be too obvious what had happened. They left him in the crevasse, quickly escaping to their homes. He fell into the snow and for just a moment, he let himself actually feel the pain. He screamed. The movement shifted his broken jaw, and his screams faded with his consciousness.

It was days later, when Loki finally became aware enough to realize he was still alive. He had gone somewhere he had never been before, somewhere he felt safe. It was dark and so comforting he ached to leave it. But Jotunheim would not let him go just yet and he was ripped back into the cold, aching world of his life as an unwanted prince.

"Laufeyson..."

Loki tilted his head to see the speaker and felt a frown forming. Only, his face could not move without sharp pains shooting through his entire skull. So, he looked at his father with no expression at all.

"You have tried, I know, to do well in your princely duties," King Laufey spoke in a calm voice. He stepped closer and continued, "I had such hopes for you before I realized the truth."

Loki wanted to speak, to express his confusion even. All he could manage was a glassy-eyed stare and raised brows. It did not seem to convey enough for his father to understand his thoughts.

"You have been fighting with your cousins," laufey stated, disappointment growing is his voice. "Angfaurson tells me you have been cheating off of his studies, as well. I had wondered why you were excelling so quickly."

Loki's heart felt like it was going to burst from his throat. He wanted to scream in frustration, or cry for his father's trust.

Why? Why did his father not see things for what they were? Surely is was obvious what were lies and what were truths?

"Your mother is very disappointed in you," Laufey continued, ignoring his sons pleading eyes. "As for me, I no longer consider you my son. I refuse to recognize you as the prince of Jotunheim and you shall be replaced as soon as your brother is born." He paused, his expression growing darker. "Until then, you shall be a prince in name only. You will show your face when you are expected, but you no longer hold any power."

"Not that you ever did have any power, a weakling like you," he added bitterly.

Loki was so caught up in his panic, he failed to notice the king's face looming over him, dark eyes devoid of any remorse.
"Do you understand me?"

Loki tried to speak, "fath...why..youdoithi..."

"Do you understand me!?"

Loki flinched, and with it came the pain again. With that, came the beckoning darkness and Loki fell into it, grateful to be welcomed back into its embrace. No matter how comforting the darkness was, once he awoke, nothing would ever be the same again.

I'm not okay. Or as one of the great masters once said, "I'm not fucking okay!" Or maybe that was a song, I can't remember.

I thought things would be fine like this, here in the golden palace of Asgard, but they're not. I know I have to marry prince Loki, settle in like a good little husband, be a diplomat, and suck it up. Here's the thing: I'm Tony Stark, I don't suck it up for anyone.

That sounded better in my head.

What I'm trying to say is, I never do what others tell me to do. So why am I even here? Why did I leave my -rather good- life behind? Why do I have to make another sacrifice to save the world? But most importantly of all, why did I have to give up Pepper, so everyone else could be happy?

I miss her. It's weird not having her in my life in any capacity. I think I could have probably handled breaking up with her, if I still saw her around. We weren't just dating, I mean, we were friends. Good friends. She knew everything about me, possibly more about me than I know about myself. It's stupid, but I keep expecting her to walk through that door with a pile of paperwork and a coffee, telling me what I need to do for the rest of the day.

Maybe this is what 'growing up' actually feels like. Is this it? Is growing apart from people how you define adulthood? Because that's all my life's been, losing people. I don't feel like some mature individual, I feel old and alone.

The thing is, I'm tired. I may not be some thousands of years old, but I'm no spring chicken in human years. I spend my entire day alone, or introducing myself to some court member or another. Yesterday I spent the whole damn day talking to Thor's friends about myself and the things I've done. Oh, revel in my epic battle stories that I know you laugh about behind my back. Yeah, sorry I'm just some weakling human. I've had to literally bite my tongue to keep from telling them where they can shove it.

Normally, I like talking about myself. Normally, they're hot chicks who didn't really care about what I was saying, as long as they got close to me. But also, normally, I would come home to people who knew me and would talk about something else. People who didn't need to ask questions, but simply did things with me.

Meeting all these new people, all I do is introduce myself over and over again. I need someone I can just be myself around. I need someone like...

Loki was standing in the hall by himself, looking outside with a dark expression on his face. It was nice to see him out without the two guards that had escorted him around, or the cloak he hid under while he walked through the halls.

Tony had successfully changed his skin back to the Aesir tones that Odin had given him originally. Personally, Tony felt a little insulted for Loki's sake that Odin had chosen such a pale skin tone, considering how high contrast it was to Loki's true coloring. It was probably on purpose. Maybe he was looking into it a little too much.

Tony paused at the sight and waited, just beyond a pillar, to gauge the prince's mood. When they had met earlier in the morning, things had been stiff and awkward. It was mostly his fault, he knew, but something had been bothering Loki too. By the looks of it, the prince's temper seemed to have lingered in the depressing spectrum.

"I can hear you breathing," came Loki's voice, spoken loudly over the noise of the rain, "if you do not wish to feel the sting of my blade, you will show yourself."

"Okay, okay," Tony said, coming out from his hiding place with his hands up. "No need for stabbing, it's just me."

Loki's face lit up considerably as Tony approached him. There was still something heavy on the prince's mind, but at least there was a hint of a smile forming. Maybe things were looking up after all.

"My apologies, Anthony, I thought you were someone else."

"Has somebody been bothering you? I can give them a taste of my—"

"No!" Loki shook his head sharply, backing a step away and looking a little appalled. "It... It is fine."

Tony frowned and watched the prince settle into his fake calm. Something was really off after all.

"Loki, what happened?"

"Nothing of importance. What are you doing back here so soon?"

Ignoring the change in subject, Tony pressed closer and demanded again, "Tell me what happened."

A flicker of discomfort passed over the calm facade before he answered. "Someone may... be harassing me, somewhat."

Tony let out a hiss of annoyance and looked around the hall with a glare, just in case the creep was hanging around. He looked back at Loki sharply. "Who is it and what have they done?"

Loki looked taken aback and huffed slightly. "Why do you wish to know?" He asked, his expression remaining doubtful. "Do you wish to ride in and save me from my tormentor? I assure you, I am more than able to take care of myself!"

Tony's eyes narrowed.

What is his problem? So I'm not allowed to worry about the guy I'm was supposed to marry in a month?

"You know, you really shouldn't sneer at people who are trying to help," he replied calmly, "it makes them reconsider being nice to you."

Loki tensed up more at that and back away, looking startled. This was not going the way Tony wanted.

"I'm sorry," he said, frowning and backing up as well. "I won't push it, then. I'll just go for now and talk to you—"

"No."

"No?"

Loki glanced down at his fingers that were picking away at his sleeves again, and muttered, "I wished to speak with you, since we missed the morning."

"Oh..." Tony blinked at him, trying to find the right words. "Uh, okay, I guess?"

Tony watched him anxiously for a while as Loki continued to tug on his sleeves, every so often casting a glance at the rain falling through the open door. The prince was giving off such a weird mix of emotions, Tony wasn't sure where to start. Clearly there was something he wanted to say to Tony, but there was also something more personal bothering him. He doubted the prince would talk to him about it, and that bothered him. Why did it irritate him so much? Everybody has their secrets, so what if Loki doesn't tell him his deep dark past. It's not like he ever asked him about his past either.

Thinking about it only made his mood worse, so instead of dissecting those thoughts further, Tony decided to see where the prince would lead.

"Loki," he said gently, holding out a hand for the prince to come closer. It was a small gesture, but it seemed to go a long way. As soon as their eyes met, all of the stress melted out of Loki's body, and he stopped pulling at his clothing nervously. With one swift movement, Loki stepped directly on front of him and took his hand.

"Anthony, I..." He paused and glanced around before continuing in a softer voice, "we should speak elsewhere."

Tony was too distracted by the oddly warm hand clutching at his fingers to register what he said.

Were Loki's fingers always this long?

"Anthony?"

"What? Sorry, you were asking me..."

Loki's brow crunched together as he repeated his request. Tony silently cursed himself for ruining the mood again so soon and turned to pull Loki along down the hall.

"Do you mind getting a little wet?" He asked, smirking over his shoulder as they reached the side door.

"How wet do you mean? I do not disagree with a little damp, but a—"

Tony jerked the prince outside and started running across the courtyard to his new workshop. He laughed at the string of curses in some foreign language that came pouring out of Loki as the rain soaked them both instantly. It was a short journey, but the rain was so heavy it was more like swimming. By the time he slammed the door shut behind them, his hair was plastered to his face and his clothes stuck to his body.

He noticed, then, that neither of them had let go of one another's hands yet. A voice in the back of his head begged him to not let go, before the reasonable part of his brain took over and reminded him that he needed both hands.

"I said 'damp'," Loki hissed, "not dripping wet!"

Tony shook his hair out of his face and started to grin at the prince before he got a good look at what the rain did to him.

It was a crime, for someone to look that good when standing there in sopping wet clothes and glaring hard enough to set fire to the rain. His deep blue tunic was clinging to his torso in a down right sinful manner. And the prince's hair? There was no other word for it but sexy.

Tony shook his head again, more to get the raging hormonal thoughts out of it than to remove the water. He really shouldn't be thinking about him like this, even if they were getting married. It's all a game, the whole thing was just politics. Nothing more.

"Sorry," he apologized with a quick smile before ducking his head and shuffling past him. Damn it all, his cheeks were turning red like a virgin at his first strip club. Time for science. Science never failed to distract him. He could tinker and listen to Loki at the same time. But first, a couple of towels.

"Hang on, let me grab you a blanket or something," he called out as he climbed the ladder up to his loft. After digging around through some things he managed to find a towel or two for Loki and a shirt for himself. He slid down and landed with a thud, turning and tossing the towels to Loki in one swift movement.

"Catch!"

Loki flinched, but managed to catch both flying objects with ease. Tony scoffed at the glare he received and pulled his shirt off over his head. He was already tossing it in the corner when he heard the startled gasp.

"What's wrong... oh," Tony trailed off when he saw the wide green eyes fixed on his chest. Well, on the glowing object in his chest.

"What in the nine realms is that?" Loki whispered urgently, shifting a bit to inspect it better.

"It's my arc reactor," Tony replied easily, as if that explained everything.

Loki crept closer, hunching over to peer at it with curious eyes. The tips of his wet hair brushed against Tony's chest, and there was really nothing he could do about the pleased gasp he let out.

Loki looked up suddenly and met his eyes. It usually took some effort to read the prince's feelings, but sometimes Loki wore his emotions right on his face. Like right now. There was concern, fascination, and a little surprise.

"Does this hurt you?" He whispered as if speaking too loudly would somehow worsen Tony's pain.

"Sometimes it aches," Tony replied, his voice softening as Loki grew more concerned. "It's actually keeping me alive, Loki. So stop looking at me like that."

Loki pull himself up and gave him a strange look. " I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"You didn't, I'm not. You were looking at me like I was dying or something. I hate it when people look at me like I'm dying. Especially when I'm dying."

Loki's eyes widened and his hand touched the reactor suddenly. "You are dying?!"

"No! I mean, yes..." He winced and tried again, "I'm not dying horribly right this second. Eventually I will, maybe twenty to thirty years from now. Give or take a little depending on how much ale I ingest here."

That did nothing to elevate the prince's concern. In fact, he grew more pale and his eyes fell away to look at the reactor again.

"So little time?" He muttered.

Tony unconsciously leaned into his touch, suddenly overcome with the desire to hug the prince. He sounded so disappointed, so miserable. Tony hated it when Loki got like this.

"Humans don't live as long as you guys," Tony replied carefully, "me shorter than most. I've abused myself, and been abused too much to live long and prosper."

"Abused..."

That one word came out almost breathlessly, and carried such a heavy weight behind it. Tony knew, since the first time he touched Loki and the prince flinched, that he had a bad past. No one wore a mask like that without a reason, or pulled himself away from others like they might bite. Someone hurt Loki, often and for a long time.
Tony decided right then and there that if he and said person ever met, they were going to die.

Tony frowned, his brain running full circle back to why they had come here in the first place. "Loki, who's been bothering you here?"

The hand that had been pressed against his chest flinched back and tucked itself away. Loki stayed close to him, but would no longer meet his eye.

"Loki, tell me."

"He was pleasant, when I met him the other day," Loki replied quietly, his voice layered with bitterness. "We ran into one another while I debated seeing you after the change. He was quite complimentary and I felt flattered at first."

The prince heaved a great sigh and finally looked up once more. His expression grew cold as he continued, "It became more than that, and I had to refuse more... inappropriate advances."

Tony all but growled. It didn't matter if it was just a political marriage, Loki was his. He was his only friend on this boring hunk of planet and he had enough troubles already without some dick head flirting with him.

Taking a calming breath, he asked as non-threateningly as possible, "Who?"

Loki started fidgeting with the towel and glanced away again. Tony wanted to scream with frustration.

"Loki, he can't do this to you," he tried again. "For one thing, it's against the rules, for another, no one's allowed to touch you."

Loki turned quickly and stared at him, his eyes wide. "No one may touch me? You... you are rather protective, are you not?"

Tony gritted his teeth. "So what if I am? I'm your fiancé, isn't that to be expected?"

Loki's face fell into what looked like disappointment. Tony cursed himself for the third time today. He was on a fuck-up roll.

"So you protect my honor only out of some sense of duty?" Loki snapped, his body shifting away automatically.

"I don't give a fuck about honor," Tony hissed, moving closer again. "I'm worried about you because I care about you. When will you get that through your thick skull?"

Loki went silent for a while, the sound of rain filling the room in a sudden roar. Tony felt something settle over both of them. He hoped it was understanding.

"Fandral."

"What? Wait," Tony ran a hand down his face. "Thor's buddy? The blond bearded jerk?"

"Yes, the blond bearded jerk," Loki replied with a hint of a smile.

Tony shook his head and give him an apologetic look. "I should have know, actually. He flirted with me too."

Loki's eyebrows arched and an amused smirk formed on his lips. "Oh? Even you?"

"Don't make it sound like its so impossible!"

"That's not what I was implying," Loki purred in response, growing more amused. "I was simply surprised in his taste."

"I'm pretty sure the guy fucks anything that walks," Tony grumbled, "I wouldn't put it past him to go for some furniture too."

Loki laughed suddenly and loudly, startling Tony so much he dropped his shirt. Tony grinned as he watched the prince slip away into the real Loki again. It was different, because now his cheeks flushed pink and his green eyes flashed with amusement. But it was still the real Loki with his wide toothy smile and strange little giggle.

"There we go, that's what I wanted to see," he said fondly, crossing his arms and leaning back a little to admire the view.

Loki's laugh trailed off into small chuckles as he tried to catch his breath. When he met Tony's eye, he grinned. "You wanted to see him fornicate with the furniture?"

"No. Well, maybe," Tony said, shaking his head at the thought. "I wanted to see you laugh again. You've been so down lately, I thought maybe you were controlling the rain."

Loki's smile grew sad as Tony spoke, and for the last time Tony cursed himself.

"I'm afraid I am not responsible for the rain," Loki said quietly. "If I attempted to control it, it would turn to ice and snow."

"No shit? Really? Can I see?" Tony babbled, ducking down suddenly to pull his shirt on.

Loki looked taken aback for a moment before nodding.
"I suppose it should be alright, if only for a moment."

"Great!" Tony grabbed his hand again, pulling him to the door and opening it with gusto. "Do you think it's ever snowed here?"

"I doubt it," Loki replied, peering out at the rain thoughtfully. "I was told that it never rained here unless Thor was in a mood."

"So this is Thor's fault then?" Tony glared out at the down pour. "Remind me to scold him for ruining our picnic."

Loki smiled and stepped past him into the rain. Almost immediately, he was obscured by the downpour, becoming just a dark smudge. His only warning was a crackle before every drop of rain around Loki froze in the air in tiny droplets of ice.

The prince was standing, looking up at the sky with a calm smile on his face. In the space of a blink, the sky lightened and the rain slowed into soft fakes of snow.

"Beautiful."

Loki tore his gaze away from the familiar sky above him to look at his companion. The man was staring at him in rapt fascination, his nose and cheeks already flushing with cold.

"Is it? Does your home not have snow?" Loki asked, amused at the childlike smile on Stark's face.

"Not like this," Tony said, stepping closer and looking around at the frozen rain still hovering around him.

"It is not something I have often done, seeing as there is plenty of snow to be had on Jotunheim."

"So I'm the first to see you do this?"

Loki blinked and frowned, trying to remember if he had shown any other this power. He had not. No one wanted to see his magic, not once. It was disgusting, weak. Tony was the first person he had met who wanted to see his magic, who grew excited for it.

Something quivered inside of him, like birds trying to escape his chest. His breath caught in his throat as he met Anthony's eyes.

"Yes, you are the first."

Tony flashed his grin and started jumping around and batting the frozen drops out of the air. The snow continued to fall around them, building up on the cobble stones of the court yard. Flakes stuck in Stark's hair and melted on his face while he danced around like a child.

Voices fell from windows far above them, calling out in bemusement.
But Loki could not tear his eyes away from Stark as he played in the snow, every so often turning to smile at Loki.

"Thanks," he called out, finally running back over to Loki.

"For what?" Loki asked. Now that the man was closer, he could see he was shivering and his fingers were bright red with cold. Loki reached out and took Stark's hands in his, ignoring the soft whimpering voice in the back of his head that warned him that it was dangerous.

"For showing me this," Tony replied, showing no concern whatsoever for the fact that Loki was now holding his hands. "It almost feels like home," he added, looking around once more in amazement.

Loki watched him, not caring for the snow or the cold, or the voices of the others. He watched the weariness fade from the man's face as a spark of hope began to form behind those brown eyes.

He smiled warmly and squeezed Anthony's chilled hands gently.
"Yes, like home."