AN: Hi, guys! I feel like an extra warning is in place for this chapter (and the next ones). Obviously, I can't just give Tony and Loki a happy ending (not right away at least), so I'd say some delicate themes lay ahead such as having to cope with the loss of a (unborn) child. I know, I said no actual child would die, but please keep reading if you want to know what I meant by that. This is one angst-filled chapter, so enjoy!
The Lover That Went Wrong
- Chapter Five -
Silence and darkness were the first things he became aware of and Loki decided he quite liked that. Calmness settled over him, making every muscle of his body relax, and he wanted to remain in this state for just a little while longer before he would open his eyes, before he would abandon bliss and return to the harsh reality that was his life.
Beside him, he could hear someone's soft breathing and if he listened intently, he could hear a steady heartbeat, too. Mortals were always so obnoxiously loud after all. It was ridiculous to believe that he could actually recognize Tony's heart rhythm, though, or perhaps he was simply growing sentimental. Then again, who else would sit beside him if not Tony? The feeling of Tony's warm hand resting on his own, their fingers intertwined, made Loki's chest fill with peculiar warmth, but he refused to admit that he enjoyed the intimacy shared between them.
Finally, like drops of water seeping into his mind, he remembered what had happened. He remembered blood running down his legs, remembered losing his strength and falling to the floor. He definitely remembered Tony's soothing hands to the sides of his face and brown eyes filled with panic and dread and fear for the health and safety of their son.
Slowly, Loki opened his eyes, blinking a few times to chase away the daze that still clouded his mind. His grip on Tony's hand tightened and for one brief moment he expected Tony to pull away from him, but he didn't.
Tony only shifted in his seat leaned closer toward him. "Loki?" He asked. His warm breath brushed Loki's hair.
Carefully and with uncontrolled movements, Loki placed his free hand on top of his stomach – his frightfully flat stomach. Gone was the swell of his belly and the soft curves to his body. A shuddering breath fell from his parted lips as he tried his best to understand what had happened, but for some reason, he had trouble making sense of anything.
Turning his head aside, Loki gazed at Tony who didn't greet him with his usual kind, but stupid smile. The softness to his features had disappeared and he looked tired, his gaze speaking only of sadness and misery, and not even when Loki spotted the dark red circles around Tony's eyes did he understand.
"Where is he?" He asked with his throat dry and sore. He didn't have the strength to speak up.
Tony reached out and brushed aside a lock of his raven hair. "They had to perform an emergency C-section," He began to explain, sounding weary and cautious, "The placenta had ruptured which is why you lost so much blood. The doctors here tried their best, Loki, but the boy was so small, too small …"
Loki could only stare at Tony while the words settled in. His breath became trapped inside of his chest and tears stung the corners of his eyes. They threatened to break free, but Loki held them back because crying was pointless. Crying was for the weak. Besides, he had no reason to cry. Tony was being an asshole, messing with him and pulling some sick–
"He didn't make it," Tony added and he spoke so softly that Loki knew he wasn't lying.
"No," He breathed.
"I'm sorry," Tony said. His fingers caressed the side of Loki's face, the gesture so gentle and kind that it should comfort him, but it didn't.
Loki didn't pull away, though, his body seemingly frozen, a sharp pull to his heart threatening to tear him apart. It felt as if someone was trying to rip open his chest and tear his heart clean out of his chest.
"You lie," He accused sharply.
Magic surged through his veins, filling him with such heat that it physically pained him. Or perhaps the pain came from somewhere else. Loki didn't know, didn't understand, because he had never felt this before. He could only feel as the magic searched for a way out, and he let it. He produced a pained sound, almost like a feral, wild howl, as the magic radiated from his body.
The windows behind him cracked before shards of glass suddenly flew through the room. A rush of cold air whirled around him and then he felt Tony's body press against his as he lay in the bed to protect him from the glass.
"I'm sorry," Tony whispered again, his lips brushing Loki's raven hair. His hands came to rest to the sides of Loki's face, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into his cheeks. If he felt the tears streaming down Loki's face, he said none of it. "I'm so sorry, Loki."
"No, you lie!" Loki screamed in response. He hadn't been able to stop the way it faltered at the end.
He would give anything for Tony to be an asshole right now, for him to straighten his back and laugh at him, telling him that he hadn't meant a word he'd said, that their son was safe and healthy and alive, but Tony merely held him. His arms were wrapped so tightly around him that Loki let himself melt into the embrace.
And he cried.
Sobs ripped through his body and he reached up to grab hold of Tony's shoulders. His fingers dug so deep into his skin there that he knew he was giving him ten bruises, but he didn't care and he knew Tony didn't care either. He just cried and he clung to him like he clung to dear life itself because nothing around him made sense anymore. He felt like gravity itself had disappeared, along with reason, and Tony was the only thing keeping him anchored into reality, into sanity.
Minutes passed. Perhaps hours. Loki honestly didn't know.
Eventually, Tony lay down beside him on the hospital bed, and Loki pressed his face into the crook of his neck, seeking his comfort, seeking something familiar that could help him calm down enough to breathe again. Tony's fingers rubbed gentle circles into the skin of his neck, reminding him over and over that he was still there, that he wasn't going to let go of him before Loki asked him to, and Loki didn't.
"I would have named him after my mother," Loki whispered eventually. He couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks, but finally he had enough grip on himself to form coherent thoughts and to voice them.
"After Frigga?" Tony asked quietly.
"Yes." His hold on Tony softened, his fingers slipping from his shoulders and curling around his wrist before letting his fingers slip in between Tony's, intertwining them. He liked the physical contact they shared, just like the grief and pain they now shared. The thought was enough to make his breath hitch within his chest. "Fredric."
He could hear Tony's heartbeat racing, wild and unpredictable, like a storm. "That's a beautiful name," He said, and Loki could tell he wasn't lying. He could also tell he was trying to stay strong for him and he didn't know why he disliked that.
Tony pulled away a few inches, and Loki turned his head to find Tony gazing at him with wide, brown eyes full of sorrow, heartbreak and pain.
"Tony, I'm so sorry that–" Loki began, but then he felt Tony's lips against his.
The kiss was slow and filled with a kind of longing Loki hadn't experienced before, but he liked it, he needed it, and when it ended, Tony pressed another kiss to the top of his head.
"Why would you be sorry?" Tony asked, confusion lining his grief-stricken face, "None of this is your fault, do you hear me?"
Loki stared hard at him.
"I saw him," Tony continued before Loki had to chance to speak. He picked up Loki's hand – his pale, pink hand, and Loki didn't bother to wonder when exactly Odin's charm had falling back in place – and caressed the back of it. "I saw him for just a second and he had soft, pink skin and dark hair. I could tell he would have looked like you. You you. He would have been beautiful–"
"But he's dead," Loki snapped. He didn't miss the way Tony flinched at his words, nor did he miss the anguish in his eyes as Loki pulled his hand away from him. "And you can tell me whatever you want, but the truth remains that I had to keep him safe for nine months and I couldn't even do that."
"It's not–"
"I want you to go," Loki said. He leaned away from Tony, his hands pushing against Tony's chest and if he was about to fall out of bed, Loki couldn't care less. "Get out."
"Loki …"
"Get out!" Loki screamed. He watched as Tony hesitated, watched as he stood up and stepped back. His brown gaze lay heavily upon him and Loki cursed him for it, cursed him for making his chest fill with guilt because he could not deal with that, too. He could not deal with anything right now and most of all he wished he could return to that darkness and silence.
Oblivion.
For a moment nothing happened.
Then Tony opened his mouth to speak, but Loki didn't give him the chance. He lifted a shaking hand, the various pieces of glass scattered around him rising with it. He didn't actually want to hurt Tony – he'd hurt him enough already – but the threat alone was enough, because Tony left.
And Loki cried.
-/-
His breath left condensation on the glass.
The sky above him was completely dark with thick clouds shifting before the stars, concealing them, and Loki liked to believe that there were no stars up there, that Earth was the only realm in this vast, cruel universe. He gazed up at the darkness through the window and for a short moment he felt completely alone as he stood in Stark's living room.
There had been a time where he hated the loneliness and seclusion, where he had been jealous of Thor and his friends and had been envious of the laughter they shared, but now isolation was all Loki craved, the silence around him calming him and allowing him to hear his own thoughts for once.
Footsteps approached.
Loki sighed. At times he wondered why he didn't just leave. Wouldn't that make everything easier? But something was keeping him here – and Loki knew exactly what that something was, or better yet, who that something was, but he still lived in denial and he was okay with that for now.
"Here you are." Tony's contours were reflected in the window that stretched from floor to ceiling. Loki gazed at his reflection and watched as Tony stepped closer toward him, his arc-reactor casting his face in a soft blue hue, the light accentuating the dark circles around his weary brown eyes. "Come back to bed," He said when he stood right next to him.
Tony's lips pressed against Loki's bare shoulder, making Loki shiver even though warmth spread through his veins at the touch. It confused him more than it angered him. And when Tony's hand slipped into his, Loki realized he should pull away, but he didn't. Perhaps he no longer had the strength to fool himself.
He no longer had the strength for anything anymore really.
Turning his head, he found Tony so incredibly close that he knew they were sharing the same breath. He could see the dark circles around his eyes more clearly now even though the only light in the room came from his arc-reactor. He could see the torment filling his features, too.
"How beautiful you look when wrecked by my hand," He murmured.
Tony tensed, his grip on Loki's hand tightening.
Reaching up, Loki brushed Tony's cheek with the tips of his fingers. He wondered if Tony had cried before he had finally found enough courage to leave the comfort of his bedroom. He wondered if he had cursed him before pulling himself together and coming down here to find him. Perhaps he had hoped not to find him and maybe that would have been better.
"I'm not wrecked by your hand," Tony replied, and Loki didn't miss the strange tightness in his voice, "You haven't broken me."
Loki's fingers traced the sharp line of Tony's jaw before he leaned forward and kissed him, his tongue lining the seam of his lips. Tony stiffened for a moment and then Loki could feel him relax beneath his touch, a soft moan coming from somewhere deep within him. Loki smiled against his lips when he heard that sound. Tony was the kind of man that liked to be in control and Loki was the kind of man that enjoyed ripping that control right out of his mortal hands.
"Give it more time," He whispered cruelly against Tony's lips.
Brown eyes narrowed and grew apprehensive and suspicious. Tony's hand suddenly let go of Loki's to curl around Loki's wrist as Loki scraped his nails down the skin of Tony's neck.
"Stop it," Tony said, sounding breathless. Loki could feel Tony's rapid pulse beneath his touch and the corners of his thin lips turned upward, though the sentiment never reached his emerald green eyes. Loki knew it was the kind of smile Tony had come to hate more than fear.
Tony pushed Loki's hand away, obviously disliking the way their contact had grown from intimate to ominous. Malevolent. Loki scraped his nails across the skin of Tony's neck, leaving three thick scratches, blood instantly welling up and trickling down Tony's throat.
Quickly stepping back, Tony covered the small, stinging wounds with the palm of his hand. He stared at Loki, his breath coming from his lungs in short, wild pants. "I know what you're trying to do," He said and while he did his best to sound calm and in control, Loki enjoyed seeing how he was struggling to remain strong at the moment. Tears shimmered in the corners of his chocolate brown eyes and Loki ignored the sharp pain he felt to his chest as he witnessed them.
This was getting dangerous again. Walking around Tony, Loki headed for the door and with every step he took, he could feel his heart grow heavier and colder. He already missed Tony's warmth while he hadn't even lost it yet. Maybe he wanted to lose it.
"Running away won't help," Tony said before Loki could leave the room, "Pushing me away won't help either."
Gritting his teeth together, Loki stared ahead of him, into the darkness. That was all that lay ahead of him – darkness. That was where he belonged, where he felt strongest, and the mere idea that once he had believed to have a future here with Tony, that he'd had a chance for something better, was now utterly ridiculous.
"Go back to bed, Tony," Loki said, hoping that Tony had missed the frailty to his voice, "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Loki, don't do thi–"
Nothing but darkness surrounded him as he left the room and closed the door behind him. He walked away, not knowing where he was going, and disappointment flooded him when Tony didn't come after him.
He didn't know what he had expected.
Loki hated it.
-/-
During the day, the house could get so loud.
At times Loki thought that noise was all that filled his head to the point where it drowned out all of his thoughts and while it brought some form of relief, of comfort, he mostly hated it. If he dared to forget what had happened two weeks ago for just one moment, he felt guilt move around his chest like a claw fastening around him, its sharp, metal hooks digging painfully deep into his lungs, piercing them and making it impossible to breathe.
There was always activity around him. If it wasn't his idiot of a brother and the Captain training, their shouts and grunts filling the house, it was Banner and Stark bantering like a couple of old wives. Occasionally, Fury would come by – which was new – and Loki always vanished when that happened for he hated that man more than was reasonable. And at times, it was Romanoff and Barton taking over Stark's mansion. If they weren't playing some ridiculously flawed game on Stark's game-console, they were watching an absurd movie that never made sense to Loki.
At times such as those, Loki wished he could return to the vastness of the universe. He remembered the time where he had fallen through a black hole and ended up on an unknown, lost realm. He had been all alone and it had frightened him, yet now he wondered if he could find that world again, its emptiness and coldness sounding appealing.
But Loki never actually went in search of it. Either he felt the time wasn't right or perhaps, just perhaps there was still hope. He felt it in the way Tony would intertwine their fingers or in the way he would hold him or press his lips against his, softly, gently, lovingly. Loki hated that he loved it because whenever it happened, he found himself in a short moment of bliss before that claw appeared around his chest again, making him bleed.
With a burdened sigh, Loki left the bedroom in search of food. He wondered how long he had been holed up in Stark's room, but when he couldn't instantly think of the answer, he shrugged away the question. In the end, it mattered not.
Quietly, he moved down the hallway and for once he found the house silent even though it was the middle of the afternoon. Loki was just about to thank the gods when he heard voices drift toward him as he entered the corridor that would lead him toward the staircase.
All thoughts of food were long forgotten by the time he neared the room from which voices came.
"Hand me the screwdriver." There was a moment of silence. "You're doing it all wrong, Clint, so hand me the damn screwdriver right now or I'm gonna throw a hammer at your head. It won't be Thor's, but it'll still hurt like hell."
Curiously, Loki pushed open the door to find Barton and Romanoff standing near a crib that was stripped bare of the little mattress, sheets and teddy bears. Only the wooden frame remained and Loki watched with narrowed eyes as Clint was just about to take that apart, too.
The hinges of the door squeaked when Loki pushed it fully open, Clint and Natasha's gazes snapping toward him.
"What are you doing?" Loki asked, his voice low, an edge of menace to it. He had never made it a secret that he disliked the two agents, but then again, neither had they ever liked him. Sometimes Loki still suspected Natasha would appear by his bed in the middle of the night to slit his throat or that Clint would come and shoot an arrow through his eye-socket. Loki doubted he would try to stop them at this point.
Clint cleared his throat, his hand holding the screwdriver lowering until it hung awkwardly beside his body. "We didn't see you there."
Obviously. Loki's piercing green eyes shifted between Clint and Natasha for a moment until he let his gaze shift around the other items in the room – the nursery. This would have been his son's bedroom. That crib – now taken half apart – would have been where Fredric slept. Stuffed animals filled the boards lining the soft blue walls, a color Tony had picked out because he'd hoped it would have reminded the boy of the hue of his father's arc-reactor. Loki had never cared about that.
"Stark asked us to stow all … this away," Natasha explained and she pointed to everything and nothing at the same time. She exchanged quick, meaningful glances with Clint – glances that did not go by unnoticed to Loki, but he couldn't care less about the silent communication between the two agents.
Lifting a pale hand, Loki snapped his fingers. Magic warmed the air around him for a moment before, suddenly, the crib fell apart, the screws holding it together clattering to the ground. Loki watched as they scattered to every corner of the room.
Natasha and Clint didn't bother to pick them up just yet.
"Well, that helps," Clint said. His uncertain grey eyes fell on Loki in a way Loki thoroughly disliked. He could tell something heavy lay on Clint's mind – something of which he already knew he had no need to hear – but before he could turn around and walk away, Natasha voiced their shared thought – a thought that sent shivers of hostility through him.
"Loki, we're so sorry for your loss," She said.
Resentment and anger filled him, and hands became tight fists. "Why would you be sorry for my loss?" He asked bitterly.
Natasha seemed taken aback by his question and Clint merely eyed him in disbelief.
"We're not heartless," Natasha replied.
Clint nodded in agreement. He glanced at Natasha before focusing on Loki again. "We wouldn't wish this upon our worst enemy," He said and truly, the sentiment made Loki want to laugh. He didn't, though.
Instead, he just smiled icily. "And that is where you and I are different."
Natasha obviously weighed her next words carefully. "We don't–"
One sharp, ruthless look had her silent. "Don't think for a second," He began, his voice dripping with venom, "That anything has changed." And with that he stalked away. He didn't want to know their thoughts, their reaction. He couldn't care less about them. He just knew that with every passing day, he was postponing the inevitable.
It was time to close this chapter of his life.
-/-
Pulling back his head, Tony barely avoided getting punched in the face by a woman that was half his size. Honestly, getting his ass kicked by Natasha was humiliating. Actually, it wasn't. Tony suddenly remembered who exactly she was – a skilled assassin who has killed her way through life since she was eight years old until SHIELD had picked her up and gave her some more training.
Still, he didn't want to go down by her hand in the first five minutes. How mortifying wouldn't it be to be defeated so easily, especially with Thor standing nearby? No, he had a reputation to uphold.
Thor had his massive arms crossed before his chest as he observed the fight, his blue eyes focused on the way Tony and Natasha where moving around each other – Natasha who spun around, her red hair whirling around her face, and her foot connected to Tony's side who gasped sharply at the pain instantly spreading through his body.
Fucking hell that hurt!
Still, this was all part of their training. Just a bit of fun as Loki would put it. Truly, Tony did feel he was becoming better with every training session. And in any case, give him his suit and he had Natasha on her back in a matter of seconds. Actually, he would love to see how she would fight him then. It was something he'd have to test later.
Tony glanced at Thor, taking in his impassive features, and wondered what would happen should he fight the both of them. Tony had an inkling he would still be begging for his life in a matter of seconds anyway, wearing his suit or not. After all, Thor had proved himself again Iron Man before.
But right now Tony was well aware that he should keep his attention trained on Natasha. He had to focus on getting air into his lungs because her kick had landed against his ribs and Tony was certain the skin there would look black and blue by the end of the day. Taking a step forward, he lifted an arm and knocked his elbow to the side of Natasha's face.
She stumbled aside, a muffled groan escaping her lips, but her gaze remained focused on him, sharp and lethal. She placed her balled hands in front of her face, white tape wrapped around it to protect her skin. She was ready to either defend herself or punch Stark in the face. Knowing Natasha, it was probably the latter.
"He's leaving, you know," She said breathlessly all of a sudden. She circled around Tony, clearly searching for a weak spot in his defense – there were probably a few. She had spoken so softly, however, that Tony knew her statement was only meant for his ears, not Thor's.
"I know," He replied. She hadn't spoken his name, but he knew of whom she spoke.
He ducked when Natasha tried to land a blow to his head.
"You're not going to do anything about it?" Natasha jumped up, her legs twisting through the air as if she weighed nothing – she probably didn't – and her shins knocked against Tony's shoulders just hard enough to make him lose his balance and fall down. He was grateful the floor was covered with judo mats.
Rolling over, Tony jumped back up onto his feet and twirled around to have his eyes on Natasha again. The last thing he wanted was a foot to his back. "What can I do about it?" He asked tightly, the topic of conversation making him uncomfortable, because since when did he discus Loki with Natasha?
His left hand shot forward, Natasha easily pushing it aside, but the diversion was enough to allow Tony to actually punch her in the side. She winced but was otherwise unharmed.
"That's not the important question," She said, shaking her head, lifting her chin and somehow managing to look down at Tony while she was more than a head shorter than him. She took more distance from him, too, which gave her the chance to catch her breath, to figure out her next move. Tony knew he should be doing the same, but truthfully, thinking about Loki distracted him.
Glancing aside, he found Thor still watching them. He was frowning slightly and Tony knew he was only catching parts of the conversation that peeked his interest, but if he wanted to know more, he didn't bother asking.
"The important question," Natasha continued, "Is whether you want to do something about it." She tried to land another blow to Tony's jaw, but Tony darted aside and managed to kick the back of Natasha's knee, causing her to stumble forward.
Her red hair was beginning to stick to her face.
"Why wouldn't I want to do something about it?" Tony asked sharply. He wasn't sure he liked what Natasha was implying. Dropping his hands, forgetting about his fight position, he walked to the other side of the training-room and picked up his bottle of water. He took a generous gulp, the cold water filling him feeling divine.
"I don't know," Natasha said from where she stood, shrugging, "That's what I'm asking you."
"I lost as much as he did," Tony said. He didn't bother to keep the conversation quiet anymore. Perhaps it would be better to have this conversation somewhere else. He closed in on Natasha again, ready to continue their training. "He's the one pulling away from me," He couldn't help but add and it surprised Tony that the thought hurt him as much as it did.
Natasha's fist knocked against his side, but Tony hardly felt it. Thinking about Loki distracted him, but it also filled him with anger he gladly used to strengthen himself. He was faintly aware of how unhealthy that sounded. In any case, he shoved Natasha's hand aside and threw his elbow forward. It connected with Natasha's nose, her head snapping back due to the force of the blow.
In the corner of his eyes, Tony spotted Thor straightening his back. He seemed moments away from intervening, but there was no need for that. Tony stepped back and inhaled deeply, calming himself. Natasha gazed at him, nothing but disbelief in her eyes – not because Tony had gotten her so well that her nose was bleeding, but because Tony had managed to land such a blow in the first place.
"Sorry," He muttered.
Natasha shook her head. "Don't worry about it," She said, a faint smile curving the edges of her lips upward. She pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and pointer finger in the hopes of quickly stopping the bleeding. "You're getting better, Stark."
"We should call it a day," Tony offered, wiping away the sweat covering his brow. He knew Thor had hoped to practice a bit with them, too, so he turned to him to apologize only to find a certain dark haired god standing in the doorway, his hands hidden in the pockets of his linen green shirt. His emerald green gaze stood apprehensive and cautious – as always – and Tony could virtually see the protective walls building around him. The sight shouldn't make his heart stutter within his chest.
"Oh," Natasha said as she spotted Loki, too.
Thor turned aside, his gaze widening. "I did not hear you approach, brother."
"Clearly not," Loki smiled, but there was nothing warm about it. He stepped to the left side of the training room and picked up two thin, fifty inches long wooden staffs. He tossed one at Thor who swiftly caught it. "Let's train."
Thor looked dumbfounded.
Tony had no idea what was happening or going to happen either. Stepping back, he picked up his bottle of water and took another sip, glad to have something to do with his hands. He watched Natasha as she came to stand next to him, her gaze revealing that she didn't understand what was going on either.
"I'm not going to fight you," Thor said slowly, his gaze narrowing as he observed Loki who moved to the center of the training room, his knees apart, lifting his staff and moving into a defensive position.
"And why not?" Loki asked. Tony wished he could see the look on Loki's face, but he stood with his back toward him. Loki cocked his head aside, his raven hair falling behind his right shoulder. "Don't give me that look, Thor," Loki said angrily.
"What look?" Thor asked.
Even Tony knew what Loki was talking about.
"Like I'm made out of glass," Loki snapped. His muscles seemed rigid with tension. "Now fight me."
Nothing happened.
A strange sort of laugh escaped Loki's lips. It sounded too high, too sharp, too calculated. It was the kind of laugh Tony had heard before and he never enjoyed what followed. He could tell Thor was thinking alike. The god of thunder didn't raise his staff, however. He merely held it and Tony thought for sure he would toss it aside and just leave, but then Loki darted forward and slammed the end of his staff to the side of his brother's face.
"We've been here before," Loki bit out, "Remember what happened?"
The force of the blow had caused Thor's head to snap aside and he didn't return to look at Loki just yet. Tony could see the rising and falling of his chest, the rhythm just a bit too fast. He knew for certain Loki spotted that, too.
"Loki, that's enough," Tony tried. He should keep his mouth shut. He knew that. Who on this earth would think meddling in the affairs of Norse gods was a sane thing to do? "Thor doesn't–"
Loki slammed the end of his staff to Thor's shoulder, but he never actually managed to make contact. Thor had lifted his own staff and blocked the attack, the sound of wood hitting wood echoing through the room. Tony wanted to intervene, wanted to pull Loki away from Thor to end this madness – because this was so clearly madness – but then he watched Loki spin around, his staff twirling in his hand. It struck against Thor's thighs.
Thor growled, his features warping with pain. Tony could tell that instinct was taking over as Thor took an angry step forward and beat his staff to Loki's arm. Tony held his breath as he heard Loki hiss in pain. Thor tried to knock Loki's feet from underneath him, but Loki hopped back and with swiftness Tony had never seen before, he watched as Loki's staff hit Thor's head.
Hard.
Twice.
Staggering back, Thor shook away the dizziness that clouded him. His grip on the staff diminished for a moment and that was enough for Loki to grab his chance. The god of mischief kicked the staff out of his brother's hands before he spun around and kicked the back of Thor's knees.
Tony felt his heart skip a beat.
Thor fell to his knees.
Bashing his staff to the back of Thor's head, Loki growled. "See, you're not better than me." His voice may be sharp, but it sounded broken as he said the words, and Tony felt a strange tightness to his chest as he witnessed Loki striking the back of Thor's head a second time. "You might be stronger, but you're not better than me!"
Loki didn't seem to be breathing anymore and his emerald green eyes spoke of nothing but pain and misery and fury. His cheeks were wet. "So why …" He began, his voice faltering, "… is your life so fucking perfect?" Loki continued to the slam his staff onto Thor's body, his movements frantic. Thor merely stayed down, making himself as small as possible, his arms lifted protectively around his head.
"I bet …" Loki was screaming now, "… you would never lose a son!"
It was time to end this. Tony rushed forward, toward Loki, approaching him from behind which was a stupid risk to take, but at least he managed to wrap his arms around Loki's shoulders. He pulled him away from his older brother, making it impossible for Loki to land more blows to Thor's body.
Loki threw the staff at Thor.
"Loki, stop," Tony said softly.
"I hate you, Thor!" Loki continued to scream. He was crying openly now – which told Tony enough of how screwed up all of this was. "You have no idea how much I hate you!"
Tony managed to pull him out of the training room and he kicked the door shut behind him with his foot. Only then did he dare to let go of Loki. The raven haired god stepped away from him and turned to face him, his emerald green eyes latching onto his. He looked nothing but extremely wounded and very much pissed off.
Loki stared at him, his chest heaving up and down.
Deciding to take a risk, Tony closed the distance between them again and placed his arms around Loki, embracing him and holding him tightly. Relief flooded him when Loki didn't push him away nor plant a dagger into his gut – because Tony didn't doubt Loki could conjure a weapon out of thin air.
Instead, Loki pressed his face to into the crook of Tony's neck, his fingers gripping the hem of his shirt so tightly that Tony thought it would rip for sure.
"Please don't leave," Tony breathed.
Loki said nothing at all.
TBC ...