Here is my new chapter, sorry for the wait. Thank you so much for your feedbacks, I love you guys! And special thanks go to my beta cara-tanaka, thank you, darling!
I have a little request: I suck at drawing, but if someone of you would like to draw something from my story, you would have my eternal gratitude.
That said, have a happy holiday and merry Christmas to you if you celebrate it! I hope you'll like my new chapter^^
Chapter 41: Closing in
Turning back had always been the most difficult journey.
He breathed deeply while he reconciled with his physical body, feeling the wall against his back, the soft rug under him, the fresh air on his face, which was a lot gentler than the coldness of the void where he had sent his astral projection.
However, he was still hurting: in his nerves, there were countless burning shreds of pure pain, he could feel hard, sharp stones under his hands and feet, he was immersed in a pool of his own blood and the faraway echo of a mad laughter inside his mind was tempting him with a madness that would offer him protection and salvation. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids seemed like they were glued together. Darkness was surrounding him, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't run, he couldn't defend himself.
He was choking in the dark silence of the void.
"You are alone, little god".
He was drowning in pain and no one was looking for him, no one would ever remember him. No one cared about him.
"You are alone and now you are mine".
No.
It was a lie. And he wasn't so weak that he would fall prey to the fears of his own mind.
I am not really there.
He took another deep breath to give meaning to that thought, then he waited for one more moment to assure himself he hadn't lost any shards of his being in that reign of darkness and death.
He returned to his reality and opened his eyes.
The familiar room of his lair made him relax a little.
He was sitting on the floor of his study, a room which was the exact replica of the one he had in the house where he was keeping Stark. He was still in Midgard.
Thanos and his slaves were too far away to catch him, busy preparing the biggest war Loki would be fighting in. He still had time.
He stood up, refusing to show any weaknesses when his legs threatened to buckle under his weight. His mind was full of the worst memories of the time after his fall. The pain and loneliness and fear he had felt when he had met Thanos were still so intense they were able to freeze even the chest of a monster like he was, but he could ignore them.
Thanos hadn't noticed his presence.
The Titan's gaze had sharpened and he had felt it on his impalpable skin like a burning blade, painful and so threatening that it had taken all of Loki's concentration to keep his concealing spell in place. But he had succeeded in remaining hidden, one unimportant shadow among many others, so he had been able to spy on his greatest enemy and fear without revealing himself.
The Other hadn't been there. He had been sent to hunt him like Loki were a prey, but he would tear the monster and himself to shreds before he let the Other capture him alive.
The Chitauri were there, even if they were less than he had thought. Not that the decrease in their numbers would matter, now that Thanos seemed like he wanted to personally be on the battlefield, because the Titan's power was enough to wipe out whatever hope of winning a Reign could have.
Even if Thanos was defeated, Loki wasn't sure there would have been survivors or places where to start life again.
There were still days, though, maybe weeks before the Titan's army was ready to move. After that, it would have to pass through the void before it could reach Asgard or Midgard.
Loki still had some few months. He would intensify his experiments with the Casket and with the Tesseract shard in his scepter.
He sighed lightly, savoring the pleasant silence in a familiar place with no threats. After he had collected enough power to teleport, he opened his eyes, letting the reality around him dissolve and rebuild itself in the blink of an eye, and his gaze met the living room of the lair he had been sharing for days with his prisoner.
The first sound that greeted him, which was so wrong, was a hoarse laughter.
Immediately, he searched for the source of the laughter, letting his armor disappear in a golden light, before his eyes found the mortal.
Stark was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He had the bottle Loki had gifted him in his hand and on his face he showed a drunk satisfaction. He was so inebriated that he hadn't even noticed Loki's arrival and was mumbling something unintelligible while laughing.
Loki got closer and turned up his nose when he smelled the strong alcohol trace on the mortal.
"I have not given you the bottle so that you could turn yourself into such a pathetic sight."
The mortal looked around, confused, before his feverish eyes landed on him.
"Hey, Reindeer Games, why don't you join me? If I remember well, I still owe you a drink". Stark lifted the empty bottle, shaking it a little with a smile. "Of course, before that you'll have to magic into existence another good bottle of scotch. I have to say I like your trick, why don't you teach me? I snap my fingers, and here it's the alcohol. I snap them again, and here it's Pepper. A third snap, and I erase the memories I don't like. With magic, things are wa-a-ay too easy".
It seemed like Stark was able to speak quite coherently even if inebriated, which was more than he could say about Thor and his idiotic companions, but the mortal's words arose the mix of rage and frustration that had been harboring inside his chest since he visited Thanos' realm.
In a swift movement, he lifted him up grabbing the hem of his garment.
"Do you really think that a mere snap of fingers would be enough to free someone from their unpleasant memories?".
Stark lost his smile, but his grimace seemed like it was caused by the sudden movement, seeing how his hand ran to his stomach, instead of the god's words.
"Why not? You can make things appear out of thin air, so why don't you erase them? Bending the rules of physics, cheating against reality..." Stark was talking with a drowsy voice but without pausing, in the testament that even an excessive alcohol ingestion wasn't able to silence him. "It's what your magic can do and I'm not asking you anything different".
The urge to slam the mortal against the wall until his head would be smashed into a pulp was so strong that Loki had to strengthen his grip on Stark's garment to control himself.
"Foolish mortal, do not speak about what you cannot hope to comprehend", he hissed, with a dangerous edge in his voice.
Stark grabbed his arm before he could pulled away.
"I'm a genius, Maleficent, remember that. If there's someone who can understand how your magic works, that's me".
The fingers on his arm were unexpectedly strong, considering that Stark was barely able to remain standing. It seemed like Stark's grip was the only thing that was anchoring him to reality, like he was so weak and confused that he needed the help of an enemy to keep breathing. If Loki hadn't met him before, he would have thought that his words were caused by his inebriated condition, but he had known him long enough to know that Stark used to brag even when sober and that among the pathetic Midgardians, he was one of the few to have some worth.
It didn't matter now, because his patience was wearing so thin that even having an Avenger as a prisoner was losing its appeal.
"Speak again, mortal, and I shall make you experience my power on your own skin in the most unpleasant way", he threatened the mortal, but Stark seemed like he wasn't even listening to him. He was looking into his eyes with a stubbornness which was almost an obsession.
"It's what the fairy tales are about. Magic helps the hero and makes the monsters disappear. Come on, then. Use it against the monsters in my head". For a moment, even through the alcohol that was dulling his gaze, the mortal showed something akin to desperation. "Make them go away".
Loki felt his throat being constricted like someone invisible was strangling him.
"What do you know about monsters, Stark?".
"You saw them".
For a moment, he almost hit the mortal. Then he broke into a harsh laughter, indulging the hatred and self-contempt that had been inside his chest since that day in the relic room.
"Do you really want to see the monster? You are looking at it now".
Ignoring the threat hidden inside his hiss, Stark dismissed his words in a wave of his arm, stumbling.
"Don't say that, you're not bad as an evil guy. I mean, you could totally win Mister Villain of America without even using magic and I'm sure you would be in the finals of the prom queen of evilness and madness. I'm talking about real monsters, those which-".
This time, Loki hit him for real, interrupting his speech with a hard backhand. He remained still for an instant to savor the sensation of Stark's cheek against his knuckles, watching the cut he had just opened in his mortal's face, like the blood that was spreading down from his cheekbone was a work of art. Then he hit his prisoner again, just because it was something he could do.
Visiting Thanos' realm had left him hurt and tired, and now he yearned only for a deep, dreamless sleep. Part of him, however, was just looking for something to destroy and tear apart, because he needed to be in control again and he had a lot of rage to vent on whoever he had next to him, after those simple memories had made him waver.
He didn't have the patience to put up with his annoying prisoner.
He was just considering the option of a third backhand when Stark shook his head and then inclined his face towards him.
"Has anyone told you yet you're a son of a bitch?".
He could break his neck. It wouldn't take much effort, just one moment, the movement of his fingers, and he would have gained the silence he was craving and at the same time a corpse to show the Avengers as a token of his victory.
Before he could act, however, Stark was the one who moved, reaching for his lips with his own.
He tensed immediately, because he couldn't believe that the mortal had dared to actually do that, but Stark was kissing him, wet and hot, with a hunger he didn't expect, and for a moment he wasn't able to react.
The mortal moaned, reminding him of the day when it had been him who had started the kiss, searching roughly for Stark's mouth in an act born out wrath and desire of possession.
He slammed his prisoner against the wall, where the mortal remained still, too weak and drunk to stand on his own.
"What do you think you are doing, Stark?".
The mortal smiled at him with unfocused eyes that showed how inebriated he still was.
"Consolation sex? You're hot, I am me, and judging by your expression and your bad mood, we both need some distractions".
His hands were already trying to clumsily untie the laces of his pants and, for a moment, Loki didn't have the alertness to stop him. He was too surprised to react and part of him was suddenly aware that a lot of time had passed since he had last allowed himself to have that sort of physical pleasure.
He grabbed the mortal's wrist more to catch his attention than to really stop him.
"And how would your companions react if they knew that you have offered yourself to me with such enthusiasm?", he purred.
Stark's eyes met his with a glimpse of understanding. For a moment, Loki could see the satisfactory shadow of panic in the mortal's stare, before everything disappeared behind the same bitterness that he had showed during his days of apathy and when he was caught with his guard down.
"Like that would be the worst thing I have done", he replied in a laughter which was more like a sob.
The sob then became a strangled sound and Loki had the readiness to step aside a moment before Stark began throwing up on the floor.
He watched the mortal falling on his knees while he continued vomiting all the alcohol he had drunk, between curses and some broken words that could have been offenses or pleas.
"I do not kill you now only because you are not lucid enough to realize it", he told Stark when his retching subsided a little, allowing him to breathe again. "Now do regain your composure and clean your filth".
