Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, that belongs to Marvel.
Chapter 2: Nightmares Can't Hurt You, Loki
He's alone, the hollow ache in his stomach tells him so. While he doesn't recognize his surrounding immediately, he knows the rough terrain scratching his chilled feet. Jotunheimr.
Standing on wobbly weakened legs, Loki blinks away the ice crystals forming in his vision. After a quick injury check, he tries to remember why he was in this forsaken realm in the first place. How did he even get here?
A soft whimper alerted him to the fact that he was not nearly as alone as he's originally thought. Odd… Usually his magic was good at warning him to these things.
He whipped around, searching his surrounding area for any evident threats. While frost giants may have strength and height on their side, Loki had his magic and wits. No doubt, he'd be able to, at the vary least, but up a bloody good fight.
Instead, he saw dark shadows huddled in a circle, away from the icy breath that took the place of the wind. Loki found himself wandering towards them, though not by his own consent. He shifted, hoping to break whatever connection linked him to these creatures. No such luck, his body just formed back into the tie. Moving forward, as though natural, he glared at the creatures that narrowly stared back at him. This was humiliating, being watched by such ruthless savages!
It was by this point that the trickster finally noticed that something felt off. The ruffians were not simply standing in a circle in the icy debris, but were actually protecting something inside the halo. Whatever was in the center was releasing soft whimpers of pain, occasionally breaking out into full sobs. Drawing close his eyebrows, Loki found himself pitying the poor creature, the fate that had been bestowed upon it.
Break back winds interrupted Loki's train of thought, and he found himself quivering against the onslaught. Without meaning to, he stepped closer to the group of hooligans.
"Allow me to see the injured, perhaps I may be of assistance."
Weary glances met his, and Loki thought for a moment that the giants would refuse him. Soon though, an opening just large enough for Loki to squeeze through formed between the bulk of muscle. Wasting no time, the trickster shoved into the circle, thought process slower than he would have liked.
First thought- How is it so warm in this spot?
Second thought- Dear lord, it's a child.
Indeed, when Loki went to take in the giant's injuries, he instead found himself gaping at a small, blue boy. Crimson weaves danced across the boy's torso, and Loki found himself gagging at the amount of bruises on the frail body. No child, even formed from monsters, should go through such torture.
Not wanting to further injure the young thing, the trickster set to work. Green magic tendrils delicately coated the child's arms, wiping the bruises and cuts away as though they were never there. When he finally stopped his treatment, the monster child looked right as rain. And yet, something was still off…
The boy was gasping for breath, clutching viciously at his chest and attempting to breath. Blood splattered the once pure white christened snow; as it trickled down to form a small, crimson puddle. When the child coughed, more red exploded from his lungs, and Loki tried his magic again. No avail, it seemed that the boy had small slivers of metal lodged in his chest, too small for even Loki to fully get out.
Then the boy began to morph, changing shape and definition. Once blue skin, turned sun-kissed tan. Dark red orbs, bled away to enlightened hazel. Hair grew out in spurts of chocolate and oozed sown the sides of his face.
Loki stared in wonder, and horror, at the face of his son.
His Tony.
Tony.
Loki woke with a shriek, startling the now conscience lump on next to him. Tony sat up in alarm; clutching his father and taking in the room, fear roving in his pupils. The trickster set a calming palm upon the boys back, and watched happily as relief crawled over his shoulders.
Three weeks, Tony had been his child. Three perfectly insane weeks.
Already, his son had blown up part of the west wing, tormented the peasants, and set three of the chambers maid on fire. Loki had never been so proud. Unfortunately, none of the lesser gods took well to Tony's practical humor, and had told the All-Father of his disturbances. Odin had locked Tony in Loki's bedrooms, until the boy grew out of his destructive nature.
Doubtful, Loki thought, Norns know I never did.
However, Loki conceded to the will of the All-Father. His son, of course, didn't take lightly to the idea of being locked up. After his seventh escape attempt had been thwarted, the boy took to moping around on the floor; boredom defined into his features. For days he sat there, unmoving except to eat and use the chamber pot. It wasn't a few more days, that Tony relinquished his spot on the floor to sleep in bed with his father.
Now, as Loki gazed down at his beautiful toddler, he once again questioned himself. Was it the right move to bring Tony to Asgard? It seemed as though the only ones who truly wanted him there, were Thor, and Loki himself.
Oh, and of course Frigga.
His mother had practically jumped out of her seat when she found the wandering the halls one day. She had clung to Tony as though he were a long lost friend, and nearly smothered the boy. His son valiantly trying to wiggle his way out of the arms of death, but it was no use. Fragile that she may look, Frigga had all the strength of a had spent the rest of the day cuddled into her side.
Loki chuckled fondly at the memory, a rich noise in the sea of black. He felt the bed shift beside him, as Tony's puzzled face came into view.
"I'm just thinking about the other day, my son." Loki answered the unasked question, "When you met your grandmother." He finished with an evil grin.
Tony's nose crinkled at the memory, causing Loki to laugh even harder at his son's expense. That was, however, before a soft projectile struck squarely on his nose. Loki blinked past the feather softness, to see his son standing next to the doorway with a mischievous smile slipping over his lips. Putting two and two together, Loki stared dumbfounded at the boy.
"Did you just throw a pillow at me?"
Tony stuck out his tongue, and dashed at of the bedroom, leaving a slightly dazed Loki sitting by himself. For a moment, he sat in the calming silence, before clutching the side of the cushion and running after the rambunctious boy.
In the living area, he gazed back and forth, watching for his prey. A small glimpse of brown told him exactly where to look. He stalked over, mindful of the rare and expensive collectables he had gained over the years.
"Well, I guess Tony isn't here. I bet he's hiding in the dining area." He stomped the ground, lowing the dynamic sound for emphasis. When the brown lock shifted again, Loki leaped forward. As he softly smacked the bolster over the boy, giggles erupted behind him. A second too long passed, before Loki realized his mistake.
That wasn't his son, that was an extremely angry warg pup.
Trying to stay calm, Loki turned on his son for exclamation, "Why All-Fathers name, is there a wolf in our living room?" His response didn't appease his growing temper.
"Surprise!" Tony began running in front of the canine with his arms outstretched, "Uncle Thor brought it by to keep me company."
When I get my hands on that blonde, Loki thought ruefully, I'll ring his neck.
"Tony, we are taking this mutt back,right now." Where had Thor even gotten the pup from?
"Oh, can we keep it, please, please, p-lease! I promise to take good care of it, daddy. I'll take him for walks, change his newspapers… I'll-I'll feed him, and bathe him, and love him forever!" Tony grabbed the pup, which coincidentally, allowed the boy to left it by the scruff and tuck it under his chin. Even having gone so far as to reach up and lick Tony's chin. The boy squealed, and snuggled the pup closer to himself.
He was about to refuse again, when he thought that perhaps this was a good idea. With this pup guarding him, Loki could continues on his quests. He would be able to leave for stretches of time, without having to worry about if Anthony was all right. While it was a marvelous thought to simply take Tony with him, Loki knew it was too dangerous.
Visions of his dream flashed in his memory.
Tony lying on the ground, crippled in horrendous pain, and Loki having no way to save him. Hopelessness overwhelming his being as he chants in his head, take me instead, please, not my son-
Loki cleared his head with a clean shake, staring into the wide brown depths of his son's eyes.
"You may keep him," When Tony whooped in joy, Loki lifted finger to silence him, " If you take him with you, everywhere."
Tony clutched the canine even harder, "Thanks, daddy!"
Loki hadn't honestly expected the massive bear hug, as Tony leapt up into his father's arms. Nevertheless, Loki clung to his son, almost as tightly as Tony clutched the warg.
"You will, however, be punished for your little stunt."
Tony's eyes grew wider, "I-I was only playing, daddy."
Loki smirked, easy.
"Punishment still must be rewarded to those who've earned it, Anthony," He paused for dramatic effect, "I do believe that your grandmother has been needing a new sewing hand, care to assist her?"
Through the large city, and clear past the vast mountain terrain of Jotunheimr, an echoed word reverberated in sheer horror and complete terror.
"NO!"
A/N Short chapter is short. Mainly filler, but it's also necessary to the plot. I hope to have another, better chapter up soon. R/R, please! Thanks for reading.