Freyr didn't stab him once or even twice. No, by the time Loki yanked the other god backwards by his hair, with enough force to send him tumbling backwards and crashing down onto a low table, the dagger had left three gaping wounds in the inventor's stomach and abdomen. Tony felt Freyja's grip on him relent and collapsed forwards, his eyes squeezed shut as if that would somehow ease the pain. Loki's voice was in his ear, he was catching him, holding him up and pressing him against his chest.
"I swear to the Norns," the prince hissed, "if he dies, both of you will, and I will make sure that they find you in bed together!" Tony leaned against the god, clawing at his leather armour and biting down on the gag in his mouth in order to avoid biting his tongue. Loki was lowering him to the ground slowly, talking to him now, constantly, soothingly talking, no more death threats for Freyja, and Tony tried to focus on his voice rather than the wounds and the blood that was covering his fingers where he tried to stop it from flowing out.
Whichever moron had said that the shock would numb the pain, he'd been a fucking liar.
But there was something else that worked as numbing, something warm and black on the edge of his mind, inviting with the promise of soothing nothingness, release from –
A hard slap to his face jerked him out of the haze he had been about to fall into and he gasped for air, his eyes wide open again.
"...hear me?" Loki's voice cut through his comfortable silence and Tony whimpered, shaking his head unwillingly. The gag was pulled out between his teeth and the prince took hold of his jaw fiercely, forcing Tony to look at him. "Do not close your eyes, focus on me," he insisted, and even through the pain clouding his mind, the inventor could hear the tremor in Loki's voice, "I need you to stay awake. Please, can you do that for me?"
Tony shook his head weakly, just let me close my eyes, just for a few minutes, I don't want to have to feel that, but Loki didn't relent, didn't just leave him in peace, he crouched down further and repeated: "I need you. To stay. Awake. Do not close your eyes, do not dare to close your eyes, stay awake for me. Focus on me, come on, please." I can't, can't you see that, just leave it, for god's sake, just let me sleep for five damn minutes... "I will teleport us now, and you have to stay conscious. Stay with me."
The inventor breathed in, wincing and clenching his jaw, and tried to force syllables past his bloodied lips: "Fre...?"
"Gone," Loki immediately replied. "Both of them. They're not important now. I swear, you will never have to see them again, love."
The world around them dissolved slowly and Tony felt his stomach churn, more pain, and he would have cried out if he had the power left, but like this, he just cringed and whimpered because god, how could it hurt so much, he felt the remnants of the tunic sticking to him, wet and heavy with far too much blood, and when Asgard's golden light reached him, the blackness on the edge of his vision won against his consciousness despite Loki's fading words in his ear.
They were in his dreams, though, snippets of sentences, orders, pleas, blurring into one another and fading in and out again while Tony teetered on the edge of waking.
...n't you dare, I will not let you...
The pain was still there, but it had become a dull ache, not the all-consuming agony from before.
...Eir here this instant, didn't you hear me, there is no time for your ridiculous...
Not just Loki's voice. Others, too. A woman?
...needs it, I need to fetch it, it shan't take more than fifteen seconds to – just go, Loki, go – but you need to take care of him, he – I know what I am doing, will you get it now or won't you?
It still hurt. It hurt more now, and with a small shock, Tony realized that he was waking up. He didn't want to wake up, this was so good, he didn't want to have to feel...
...just like that, yes, it will do now, we will craft a new one later, but he needs this
An electric jolt pulsed through his body, oh god he could feel his body again, he didn't want to feel his body, it hurt, making the comfortable nothingness fade further and further.
…so sorry, the, the cable, it touched – don't speak, finish it, for Norns' sake, Loki
What were they doing? Cables, oh Lord, cables, someone was meddling with the reactor. The reactor. Right. It was broken, he had been stabbed, he was dying – but he didn't want to die, no, that wasn't right. Tony fought for consciousness now rather than against it. He was resurfacing slowly.
...and if you do not obey now, I shall have you flayed alive by tomorrow!
"Flay?", Tony croaked, blinking against the light around him.
"He's awake," he heard Loki say, well duh, of course he was, why wouldn't he- right. The pain reared its ugly head and Tony pressed his eyes shut with a strained groan. Hell, no, why had he woken up? He didn't want to be awake to feel this. "Anthony, can you look at me?"
"God no," he whimpered, shaking his head, "just lemme sleep again, please, I don't..."
A hand was cupping the back of his neck and pulling him upwards. "No, stay awake. You need to be awake, love, just for some more minutes. You can rest afterwards, as long as you wish, I promise. Just a little while longer."
Tony gritted his teeth and blinked, trying to ignore the tears of pain blurring his vision. He had no idea where he was, but it all looked pretty Asgardian. There was a bed underneath him, neither his nor Loki's, though the prince was kneeling on the mattress beside him and had him hoisted up into a half-sitting position in his lap.
There was a woman with dark curls crouching over him, reaching out for him. The inventor flinched and pressed himself closer to Loki, hiding his face in the black leather of his armour, trying to evade the woman's touch, he couldn't let himself get hurt again, and felt the prince's hand brushing through his hair soothingly.
"You will be fine, love," Loki whispered, "I promise. But you have to stay awake for a little bit longer." Tony nodded against him and tried take proper breaths instead of the hitching gasps and sobs that the pain reduced him to. Just a little bit longer. He tried to focus on Loki's voice, but it was fading and getting quieter and quieter. Probably because of the blood loss, a cool, analytic part of his mind supplied. You don't know how long you've been out, but you've been stabbed three times, and the dagger went straight through you. There's bound to be a strong bleeding. You're lucky that you're even still alive. Most likely, that's partly Loki's doing.
Interesting. He hadn't known that dying made you feel so calm. He wasn't even panicking anymore, just listening to this diagnosis of his own mind. No pain left. He was floating again.
What happened to staying awake for Loki?
Shit!
Tony fought to wake up again, he'd promised, and he knew that there had to be some way to wake up because he wasn't dead yet, was he? There had to be a way to get out of this – although this was so much easier than bearing the pain of waking, feeling his wounds again, hearing his own heart stutter without the reactor... He didn't have to wake up again, did he? This was easy, this was so much easier.
You promised.
He could be free here. Going back would be difficult. He would have to deal with... with everything again. With being a slave, with not going home, with...
...being with Loki? That's not such a bad thing, is it?
But there would be problems. There were always problems. Not here, though. He was fine here, as banal as that sounded, but he was. A weight was lifted from him, a weight that he hadn't realized he'd been carrying around with him this whole time.
That's the blood loss talking, you don't actually want to die, do you?
Not dying. It wasn't about dying. It was about being free. He was weightless, he was stripped bare from everything that had ever been hurtful, from every scar and every fear. He felt good. Unconditionally good. Light. Free. He felt like laughing, because everything could have been this easy all the time and he had been so afraid of it. There was nothing bad about this, he could stay here, he didn't have to struggle with anything any longer...
...and suddenly, the pain was back, sharper and more clearly than before, searing and burning every nerve in his body. He bucked up and tried to escape it, but that only made it hurt even more. He couldn't breathe, his lungs were – no, his lungs were fine, somebody was pressing their hand over his mouth so he couldn't spit out the whatever-was-in-there. Gentle fingers were massaging his throat until he involuntarily swallowed, almost choking on the object. Its taste was painfully overwhelming, burning its way down his throat and adding to the horrible sensory overload.
"Shht, yes, just like that," Loki's voice whispered. "Keep it down. A little more, love, a little more."
Tony squirmed, blinking and trying to adjust to everything around him. He wanted to go back, he had just been settling in, it had been so peaceful, and now the world was back, crushing him with its weight. He caught a glimpse of the curly-haired woman again before he closed his eyes, trying to fall back asleep or unconscious or whatever it had been.
Loki's arm around his torso kept him pressed to the god's chest firmly as he forced another piece of the... apple?... between Tony's lips before holding his mouth closed again. The inventor wanted to scream at him, why would you do this, stop it, don't do this to me, but everything that escaped him was a dry sob and the hand was back on his throat. Tony managed to chew on the thing once before his swallowing reflex kicked in, and he still gagged on it.
He hoped that this was it, that he could go back to his peaceful little place now, but no, Loki was merciless, forcing one slice after another into the engineer while muttering about how he was good, to continue just like that, always followed by a soft my love. Only after the fourth or fifth piece, Tony noticed that he was actually beginning to feel better. The pain was still there, but it was dulled, like a burn that someone had laid an ice pack onto. He stopped struggling then and let Loki feed him, his eyes closing as he enjoyed the feeling of finally not being in that much pain anymore. He was probably slipping again, but he really didn't have the strength to prevent it any longer.
#
There were no dreams or nightmares disturbing his sleep this time, but that was partially due to the fact that he felt like he had only just closed his eyes when he woke up again. Groggily, he blinked up at the ceiling and swallowed drily. The first thing he noticed was the taste in his mouth, like blood and... something faintly sweet, which really didn't go well together. The next thing was the pleasant absence of pain and he sighed softly. That was something he really hadn't missed.
He glanced around in the room he was in – probably something like an infirmary, since there were small beds lined up on the walls, but he was the only person in here. Where's Loki?, was one of his first coherent thoughts, but he shook his head and forced it away into a corner of his mind. Loki had something better to do than sit at his bedside like a lovesick maiden. Frost Giants in Asgard, that sort of thing.
Since nobody seemed to be around, Tony tried to sit up and froze momentarily as he noticed the leather straps around his wrists, tying him to the bed. Carefully, he tested their strength, tugging hesitantly at first, then with more vehemence. What the fuck? He felt his own breath growing faster as he pulled on the restraints. This was a joke, right? This wasn't real. He was still asleep, he was having a nightmare, he was not helplessly tied to a bed, there was a joke in there somewhere, he just had to find it.
After a minute of increasingly frantic struggling, the door opened and Tony stilled as he saw Hogun and Volstagg stumbling in, carrying Fandral between them. The blond spotted him immediately and raised his eyebrows.
"Fancy seeing you here," Tony commented, grateful for the distraction, at the same time that Fandral asked: "What are you doing here?"
Before either of them could answer each other's question, the dark-haired woman from before hurried into the room and man-handled... uh, woman-handled Fandral onto one of the beds. He grimaced and groaned between gritted teeth, his eyes clenched shut, before taking a deep breath and forcing a smile onto his lips.
Right. Ridiculous Aesir warrior pride. Loki had said a thing or two about that. Mostly focussing on the ridiculous part.
"What happened?", the woman, probably a healer, demanded.
"Nothing severe," Fandral responded easily. "Just... ow!"
"Yes, nothing severe, I see," she sighed and snapped at Hogun and Volstagg: "Out with you, I cannot work if you two stand in the way and pressure him into acting like everything is fine."
"They do not-" The swordsman cut himself off with a pained groan when the healer pulled his furry cloak away from his chest, his hands clawing on the sheets of the bed.
"I see," she answered coolly. "Didn't you hear me? Out, unless you need medical care yourself." After a beat of hesitation, Hogun and Volstagg left the room with a last glance towards their injured comrade. As soon as the door closed, she pressed on: "What happened?"
Fandral hissed as she cut away the fabric around the wound and answered: "I got impaled by – helvete, be careful, would you? – by an ice spear."
"I wasn't aware that you taken up sparring with the elementalists," the woman commented drily.
"I haven't," Fandral responded, his voice strained with the effort to keep it neutral. Tony settled back into his cushions and listened carefully, trying to gain as much information as possible. "Thor took us to Jotunheim and-"
"What?!", the healer interrupted, stopping dead in her tracks. "He did what?"
"He- he wanted to take revenge on the Jotnar for ruining his coronation and..."
"And you supported him," she cut him off incredulously. Fandral squirmed uncomfortably, staring at the ceiling while she dabbed the blood from his chest. "You and your reckless friends didn't try to stop him, but rather accompanied him, yes?" The blond made a vaguely confirming sound, still staring at the ceiling. "I knew that his temper would cause him great troubles sooner or later," the healer muttered. "And I suppose that Loki was in on it, too? He cannot seem to stay out of mischief, can he?"
"Actually, Loki tried to stop him," Fandral admitted. "And he did not accompany us right away, but caught up with us when we were already battling these monsters." Tony blinked and was glad that nobody was paying him any attention. I think I know where Loki was before he came to save your asses. The thought made him remember something else and he instinctively raised his hand to feel the reactor that Freyja had crushed, but he was still fixed on the bed. But there was something in his chest, he could feel its weight, it was not the hollow that Freyja had left him with. Craning his neck, he glanced down at his chest, squirming until the blanket draped over him slipped down enough for him to catch sight of the old reactor. He had to swallow several times to suppress the nausea that was immediately welling up in his stomach. It's okay. It won't be there for long. We can craft another replacement, we know how to do it.
He sighed, laying back against the pillow behind him and closing his eyes. He felt better, impossibly so, a lot better – magical healing would do that to you, apparently – but he was still exhausted. He knew there had been something. Something that he was supposed to remember. Something that had happened between Freyr stabbing him and waking up here. The only thing he remembered were blurred voices, slipping in and out of focus, and an the overwhelming feeling of peace and quiet that he had been pulled out of. Although he was now aware that it had probably been a near-death-experience and shouldn't be the least bit positive, it was still terrifyingly beautiful and he caught himself wishing that he could go back to that state.
Loki's voice snapped him out of his dozing and he blinked back into awareness.
"...had an argument," the god was saying, standing next to Tony's bed, but looking at Fandral. "Father... exiled him for his recklessness and insolence," he continued, sounding hesitant and almost defeated, and the injured swordsman jerked upright with a startled gasp. "To..."
"Wait, who exiled whom and whereto?", the inventor demanded, pushing himself upright, and fuck these fucking bonds already, he didn't need to be held down.
Loki jumped and turned towards him, looking almost frightened for a second, before he relaxed with a small smile and breathed: "You are awake."
"No shit, Sherlock. Could you, by any chance, tell me why I am tied to the fucking bed?", Tony demanded, pointedly pulling on the bounds around his wrists.
"You were thrashing around," the prince explained, pulling the blanket back to expose Tony's wrists so he could begin to get rid of the leather straps keeping the engineer in place. "We needed you to stay still so you wouldn't restart the bleeding over and over again." He carefully kept his gaze fixed on Tony's hand, but the inventor noticed his nervousness anyway. While the god continued to talk, he observed. "I caught up with Thor and his friends when they were already engaged in combat in Jotunheim..." He told the story with a calm voice, so calm that it seemed unnatural. Like he was working too hard to keep his emotions in check, making it feel abnormal. Fandral didn't seem to notice, he just filled the gaps in the mage's explanations in with comments every once in a while.
Apparently, Loki and the Warriors Three had failed to convince Thor of retreating from Jotunheim, despite them being largely outnumbered. They had engaged in combat and, surprisingly enough, survived; after the elder prince had slain the Behemoth that had been after them, Odin had shown up and apparently saved the asses of the young Asgardians. At this point, the narratives split: Fandral had been brought to the infirmary while Loki stayed back to witness the fight between Odin and Thor, which resulted in his elder brother being banished to... somewhere Loki either didn't know or didn't want to tell. Directly after that, the mage had come here.
Now that Tony paid attention to it, he found Loki's distress almost scarily obvious, and while the god spoke, Tony observed. Loki looked shaken. His usually strong, slender fingers were trembling slightly and one of his forearms was bare, the armour just... stopping at his elbow, like somebody had broken part of it away. There was no wound, the skin was unbroken, the armour that was supposed to be covering it was just gone. Without being an armourer, Tony knew that that shouldn't be possible. Loki's eyes seemed just that little bit too wide, and his skittishness was entirely unusual. Unsettling, even.
"...all of that was, of course, after we finished treating you, which is why I came to Jotunheim after Thor and the others did," Loki finished.
"We? Who's we?", the inventor asked, just to keep the conversation going so he could watch for a little bit longer.
"Me and Eir," the mage explained, moving to Tony's other arm. "She is the most capable healer in all of Asgard."
That must be the curly-haired woman from before, then. The engineer nodded slowly and flexed his fingers. Being tied down had brought him right back to the brink of panic, even if it was in a friendly environment like this.
"I see," he said, his tone carefully levelled. "So you two... saved me." It was still sort of surrealistic – he had been stabbed, and he had already been slipping into another, more abstract, more... peaceful state when he had been pulled back into reality. And he had been okay with it. Carefully, he peeked under the covers. He was still in his leather trousers, but his chest and belly were bare – and where he expected the wounds to be, there was nothing but smooth skin. Sure, there were small, older scars, but not the three fresh ones that were supposed to be there.
"Well, it was not entirely our skill that saved you," the god admitted, straightening up after he had untied Tony's second wrist.
"No?", the inventor asked, self-consciously draping the blanket back over his body. "You had help, then?" The idea caused equal amounts of curiosity (whom would Loki call to help him?) and discomfort (how many people had seen him weak, had seen the reactor?).
"That is one way of saying it," Loki nodded with a slight smile, gently brushing a strand of hair away from Tony's forehead. The inventor closed his eyes and relaxed slightly, allowing himself to be comforted by the careful touch. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but to himself, he could confess that he needed the feeling of being safe right now. "We used one of Idunn's apples, for even Eir's magic could not heal your wounds completely, what with your fragile mortal body..."
"Ah," Tony made quietly, not really paying attention. It took a few seconds for the words to really register in his mind, and when they did, he tensed up under Loki's hand. "Wait," he said, sitting up abruptly to stare at Loki, not even paying attention to the fact that the sheets were pooling in his lap so Fandral could see the reactor. "You used one of the apples? The- the golden apple things you told me about?"
"Yes," Loki confirmed with a small nod and a confused frown.
Tony felt as though someone had pulled a rug out from under him. Weakly, he asked: "The things that make you immortal. Those apples." The prince had told him about them at some point while explaining Asgardian customs and it had sounded interesting enough back then, but now...
"Those apples," Loki confirmed. "Anthony, are you..."
"Alright?", Tony finished, a slightly hysterical edge to his voice. "Alright? Do I look fucking alright to you? No, don't answer that, just don't. You used Idunn's apples on me?!"
"I just said that, didn't I?" The mage reached out, but Tony flinched violently and shook his head vehemently.
"You didn't," he rasped, just to say something, anything to not sit here and stare at Loki like some sort of dead fish. His voice raising slowly, he repeated: "You didn't. You- you didn't feed me one of these damn things, you didn't just... just make me immortal, like that's your call to make, you can't just decide that sort of thing!"
He was working himself up into a frenzy, he knew it, but he had every right to do so. Immortal. An eternity away from everything he had called home for the biggest part of his life, unable to return there although it was constantly being dangled in front of his nose. For ten years, twenty – painful, but – human. Millennia?
You could have thought of something better, couldn't you? I am not letting you go, Anthony, Loki's words from seemingly so long ago echoed through his head. He had asked the prince for allowance to return to Earth to find materials to replace the palladium core of the reactor with, and he had been dismissed with a scornful, mocking comment which didn't leave the subject open for discussion.
"Are you really reproaching me for saving your life? What should I have done?", Loki snapped back. His hands were clenched into fists and his voice gained in volume.
"I don't know, maybe fucking ask me or something!", Tony yelled, curling his fingers around the blanket in his lap.
"You were hardly in a position to answer questions," the prince remarked sharply.
"Well, you could have waited 'till I was!" Was Loki seriously expecting that he'd just smile and say thank you? The god was smarter than that, wasn't he?
"I could not, you fool, you were bleeding out!", Loki responded vehemently.
"So that gave you the right to decide that I'm not gonna live seventy or eighty, but thousands of years? And that wasn't worth asking?", Tony shouted, his throat already feeling hoarse again. Loki just didn't seem to understand what he was doing – what he had done, what it meant to somebody who was as comparatively short-lived as Tony to be casually confronted with the fact that oh, by the way, you're immortal now.
Now, Loki was outright yelling, too: "What is your suggestion then? Would you rather have died than be saved?"
"Yes!" Loki flinched as if Tony had hit him. Immediately, the inventor realized what he had just said (or, rather, screamed) and deflated slightly. Heavy silence had settled in the room. "Look, Loki, you don't understand..."
"No," the prince cut him off, his voice carefully quiet. "No, I think I understand perfectly well." He swallowed and then nodded tersely. "I shall leave you alone, then."
"Oh come on, I...", Tony began, but Loki had already whirled around and left the room, closing the door behind him. Softly. No slamming, just softly clicking it shut. The inventor stared at it for a moment and slumped back into the cushions. "Fuck," he breathed softly. "Oh fuck, what did I just say?"
Fandral, having stayed silent during the whole argument, now spoke up from his bed: "You told him that you would rather die than be with him." His voice was carefully levelled, like he was making an effort to keep every emotion, every judgement out of it, but Tony could still hear the reproach, the accusation in it.
"Yeah, rub it in my face," he muttered. "No, don't answer me, please. I fucked up, I know. But he really had no right to..."
"...to save your life?", the swordsman cut in. His tone was practically dripping with sarcasm. "Yes, how horrible. How could he do that to you?"
"Just shut up, you two don't get my point. I can't expect you to," Tony muttered, staring up at the ceiling. He felt his vision starting to swim, but like hell was he going to have a crying fit in front of Fandral.
Although he did really feel like it. He had been kidnapped, stabbed, and had just thanked the person he was closest to for saving his life by telling them to fuck off. He was surprised that he hadn't had at least three heart attacks during this whole ordeal, especially with the stunt that Freyja had pulled.
I can fix this, he promised himself, rolling onto his side. With a hint of bitter sarcasm, he added, I have all the time in the world to do so. But for now, he would try to grant his body the sleep it was screaming for.
#
He woke up from a piercing pain in his chest, all around the reactor, making him cringe and curl in on himself. It felt like something was moving inside of him – dozens of little metal shards fighting to reach his heart... but that wasn't possible, he had a functioning reactor in his chest, nothing couldbe moving in there.
Phantom pain, he told himself, biting his lip to prevent a pained groan from escaping him. He wasn't alone, after all. Just extremely... painfully... realistic... phantom pain.
He clawed at the sheets underneath him, clenching his eyes shut and trying to think of something else. It didn't work, but after hours or minutes, he wasn't sure, he was passing out again.
It didn't just happen once. He kept slipping between sharp agony and blissful nothingness, losing all awareness of time. Somebody was making him eat and drink several times – he tried to count the meals as a way to measure the passing time and remembered about four, but he didn't even know how many times a day they fed him, so that wasn't very reliable.
He had moments of awareness, though, he wasn't completely out of it. He saw the young healers who were nourishing him, although he didn't bother with memorizing their faces. Loki was there once when he woke up, standing next to the bed in his full armour with cape and everything. He carried a large, golden spear with him and fled the room as soon as Tony opened his eyes.
The routine was broken when he didn't wake from the pain, sweaty and sore, but from the sound of the door being slammed open and harsh voices disrupting the silence. Facing the window, he could see that it was dark outside and the only light came from the city's golden glow, accompanied from the colourful light from the Bifröst bridge.
Tony sat up and turned around to see what the commotion was all about. Fandral (who was up and running again – he must really have missed something) and Hogun came staggering through the door, which was held open by Eir, both of the warriors swaying under the weight of the guy in the massive golden armour between them.
Wait, wasn't that their gatekeeper? It was definitely no good sign if that one was down, was it?
"What the hell is happening?", he demanded, swinging his feet off the edge of the bed and wincing at the stab of pain that the movement prompted. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to ignore it.
"Loki deceived us," Fandral replied after a moment of silence, his eyes locking with the engineer's. With a tired, defeated expression, he continued: "The king – the old king fell into the Odinsleep. Loki ascended the throne and sent the Destroyer to Midgard to kill Thor and us. When we returned here, we found two Jotnar dead at Heimdall's feet on the Bifröst."
"Wait, wait, wait, slow down a minute," Tony stammered, trying to grasp everything that the swordsman was telling him. Fandral had stepped closer to his bed so he didn't get in the way of the healers behind him. "Loki is king now?" An affirmative nod. "And he... he tried to murder his brother and – I'll just assume that we meant the Warriors Three, yeah? I- I don't get any of this, why would he do that?"
"I wish I could give you an answer," Fandral replied quietly, tearing his gaze away from Tony to stare out of the window. The inventor reminded himself that the guy had already been in love with Loki before Tony had even been born; a betrayal like that had to hurt in more ways than one.
How long had he been in his half-conscious state to miss so much? It seemed like the whole city had gone to hell while he had been sleeping.
Then, another thing that he'd said came back to Tony and he asked, his voice tentative because he didn't really want an answer: "Did you say Midgard?" One more mute nod from Fandral. "But he said... he said he didn't know where Thor has been banished to," the inventor recalled, practically pleading Fandral to give him another explanation than the one that was slowly forming in his mind.
But the swordsman only smiled bitterly, looking back at Tony, and responded: "He lied. We should really not be surprised."
Father exiled him for his recklessness and insolence, to... At that point, Tony had cut Loki off with his questions. Before that, the prince hadn't noticed that he had been awake – would he have told the truth if he had thought that Tony was still sleeping?
Why? What the hell was he afraid of? That Tony might demand to follow Thor? Not that Loki would let him, anyway. And even if he did... even after the things he had thrown at the god during their screaming match, Tony wasn't sure if he really wanted to go.
Of course, there was a part of him that missed Earth, a part that needed to find out what had happened during his absence. But another one, maybe even bigger than that first one, was terrified of what he might find. This part had given up returning home long ago, and now that there was a possibility to do so, it shied away from it. Not only because of the persons who could have changed back home, but also because of the way that he had changed. How would Pepper react to seeing him like this? With a set of new scars, a night light in his chest and half a year of trauma behind him? He would be expected to take the company again, to mingle during parties around hundreds of persons and act like all of this had never happened, because no sane person would believe a word from the stories that he had to tell.
"Where's Loki now?", he asked hoarsely.
"I don't know," Fandral answered.
"Thanks, that's helpful," Tony muttered. "Where could he be? Any ideas?"
"The throne room, possibly," the blond mused, "or- there have to be more of these monsters, he can't possibly bring only two Jotnar here..."
"Why would he bring them here at all?!", Tony demanded, standing up from the bed. He swayed slightly on his feet, but he was grateful for the adrenaline that was starting to numb the pain in his chest. "Don't answer that, actually, why are we standing here and talking if there's an invasion? Does anyone but you guys know about that?"
"No," Fandral responded, his hand tightening on the handle of the sword on his hip. "You should really not be moving, you..."
"I am fine, why the hell are we still here? There are five persons in total who know of this and we stand here and debate whether I should stay in bed some more? Come on, you're better than that," Tony urged, making his way towards the door. Luckily, Eir was too busy with Heimdall to pay him any attention. "Okay, we'll just have to search. I'll look in his private rooms," and get a tunic, because running through the palace while shirtless is probably not approved of in Asgard, "and you go search... somewhere else."
For him, it wasn't about saving Asgard, although that was probably a great side-effect. It was about finding Loki and keeping the idiot from bringing himself into deeper trouble – something must have happened to make the prince (no, former prince, now king) snap like that, this had never been the plan.
Or had it?
Who says that stopping Thor was all about you and Freyja? He shook his head. This was the wrong time to think about that.
"Okay, uh, where's the royal wing again?", he asked instead. Focussing on not getting lost was a good idea.
Fandral pointed him into the right direction and then set off with Hogun to another part of the palace. Tony set off towards his and Loki's rooms in a light run and was incredibly grateful that it wasn't too far from the medical wing. That reduced the number of people who saw him like this.
While he was on his way, he posed the question that he'd avoided so far: What was he going to do when he found Loki? Possibly in the company of these Frost Giants that the Aesir seemed to fear so much? It wasn't like he had the power to stop a god from doing what he wanted, especially not this one.
He wouldn't be Tony Stark if he didn't try.
Still, there was a distinct feeling of dread in his stomach when he pushed the door to Loki's chambers open. Quietly, he called out: "Loki?" No answer. He entered, feeling like he intruded some sort of sanctum, and searched through the rooms. The bedroom, the study, the room where armours and clothes hung, the balcony, something that seemed like an armoury. He hadn't known that there were so many rooms.
But Loki was in none of them, so Tony hurried into his own room and pulled one of the tunics out of the wardrobe, only half noticing its blue colour. While he pulled it on, he noticed that he had left his boots in the infirmary. Well, it didn't matter with Asgard's polished golden floors, anyway. There was nothing to step on here.
He left his room again in a haste and, in lack of a better idea, headed towards the throne room. Halfway there, he met Fandral, who greeted him with: "I know where he is!"
"Spill the beans, buddy," Tony demanded. The swordsman motioned for him to follow as he ran down a corridor and Tony hurried to keep up. Even the adrenaline couldn't fully dull the ache in his chest and he had to fight consciously to ignore it.
When he rounded a corner, Fandral was waiting impatiently by a window and pointed outside. Sarcastically, he remarked: "It is hard not to find him."
The engineer looked outside. From here, they had a clear view on the Bifröst bridge and the dome at its end. There was a ray of lightning or energy or whatever it was that the thing used, disappearing into the blackness of the void beneath.
"What on earth is he doing?", Tony asked incredulously.
"I have no idea," came the honest reply.
"And now?"
"Who told me not to stand around and talk just some minutes ago?", Fandral retorted and seized Tony's wrist as he broke into a run again. "Maybe we can still stop him, whatever he is doing."
The inventor scrambled to keep up with his companion's pace and tried not to mind how uncomfortable he was with being dragged along like this. He didn't want to be left behind, so he tried to focus on the thought that Fandral didn't deem him useless enough to go off on his own. Or he could focus on running. Yeah, that was good.
By the time they were out of the palace (why did it have to be so unnecessarily big?), the glow around the Bifröst had intensified. It had become a blinding light, even from up in the city, with energy crackling around it in a terrifying display of beauty. Tony's chest heaved with the effort of breathing too fast and too rapidly, black dots swimming in his vision.
Fandral dragged him towards the stables and they mounted the first saddled horses that they found. Bless all the damn riding lessons. In a sharp gallop, the swordsman set out for the bridge, and Tony prayed that he didn't just fall off of his mount at the speed they were going. It really wasn't helping him to catch his breath.
Despite the insane pace that they brought the horses to, the way felt like it was taking ages to Tony. The further they got, the more intimidating the sight in front of them became. The light got brighter, the white ray of light that disappeared somewhere into the void became blinding, and the crackling of energy around the dome grew more intense.
When they reached the beginning of bridge itself, the inventor was able to make out small figures at the far end. Swirls of green and red. Loki and Thor. Fighting, apparently. Tony tried to spur his mount to an even faster pace when he saw how Thor put his goddamn hammer onto Loki's chest to keep his brother from moving before he turned around to try walking into the blaze of energy that the dome emitted.
Why was this fucking bridge so damn long?!
After a minute of pointless trying-to-walk-into-the-thing, Thor extended his arm backwards and Mjölnir came flying to him. Tony almost forgot to hold on to the horse's mane as he saw how the elder prince raised his arm and brought the hammer down onto the bridge. Again. And again. Tony swore that he could feel it shaking underneath his mount.
He was close enough now to see how Loki straightened up with some effort, grabbing the golden spear again, and came to his feet, swaying dangerously. As soon as he had somehow regained his balance, he pounced on Thor with a powerful leap, in the same moment when the thunderer brought Mjölnir down for a last time.
The resulting shock wave ripped Tony out of the saddle. A giant wave rose from the ocean around Asgard, partly crashing down on the bridge and pushing the inventor back with its force. He heard a panicked whinny from his horse and curled up on himself on instinct while shudders ran through his body, both from the cold and the water and from the almost palpable energy that washed over him like a second breaker. There was the creaking and moaning of bending and breaking metal, and, almost inaudible over the noise of the breaking bridge, somebody screaming. Loki.
Disorientated, Tony opened his eyes again and staggered to his feet, dripping wet, looking around and trying to regain some sense of direction.
The dome at the end of the Bifröst was gone. Completely and utterly gone. The bridge ended in a jagged mess of sharp edges, and on its very end crouched Odin – where the hell had that guy come from?! – holding on to a leather boot – Thor? Tony broke into a run when he caught a glimpse of Loki's green cape fluttering in the pull of the void underneath.
Distantly, he could hear the prince's voice, shrill, almost hysterical, and close to breaking: "I could have done it, father! I could have done it!" Could have done what? Killed Thor? Let the Frost Giants in? Just what the hell was he talking about? "For you! For all of us!" The last bit sounded more than a plea than anything else.
Odin's voice carried through the nothingness, heavy, but strong: "No, Loki." It were just two words, but they couldn't express the rejection of whatever Loki had begged Odin to understand any more clearly.
Fandral was behind Tony, also heading for the edge of the bridge, but the inventor was there first. Without sparing the All-Father as much as a glance, he slithered to a halt, almost falling over the edge himself. Not quite of his own volition, his legs gave in and he knelt down at the end of the bridge, holding on to the ledge tightly while he leaned forward.
"Loki, no," Thor was saying with a slightly warning, but mostly pleading undertone.
Tony's eyes locked with Loki's. They were bright with tears and when he saw the inventor, Loki's last line of defence seemed to shatter. He exhaled a wordless breath, and a single tear slipped down his cheek. For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to say something, slowly beginning to form words, when Odin carefully began to move backwards, pulling his sons back onto the bridge.
Loki's eyes snapped to his father as he noticed the movement, back to Tony, and, closing his eyes in something that looked like defeat, he let go of the spear.
If you didn't understand half of what was going on in this chapter: Don't mind it. Tony doesn't, either. He's delirious, in pain or dying most of the time. It's meant to be that way.
Next week's chapter will be a LONG Loki special that clears it up.