I'll be honest with you, I do not like this chapter. But I've been putting it off for sooo long now (so sorry, by the way!), I thought I'd just get it out there and maybe edit later. Have fun?
Tony didn't really get much sleep that night. He was hung up on the kiss during the dinner with Fandral and each time he thought he'd forgotten it, it kept coming back to him in some way; a tingling of his lips, the ghost of Fandral's touch along his cheek and neck, the taste of expensive wine on his lips.
It made Tony nauseous, and he found himself curled up on the bed and staring out of the window while his shoulders shook with silent, bitter laughter over himself. Getting wound up over one little kiss, he was being ridiculous – especially considering how he had used to do this all the time without minding.
Granted, that had never been with a man. He was pretty sure that he'd never kissed a man before Loki had come along; he hadn't been homophobic, that wasn't the problem, he had no issues with other guys who liked men. It had just never been him.
Until Loki had to go and screw up his world view, of course, taking his sexuality along for the ride. Thanks a lot. And now? He still didn't like men. He'd thought about it, of course, it wasn't like he had much else to do here, oh, he'd been thinking a lot. He'd been looking, too, because it wasn't like they didn't have some very admirable specimen up here in Never-Never-Land.
But he still didn't like men. There was nothing that made him look after them, that caught his eye, at least not in the sense, never in the sense that Loki had done. He could appreciate someone good-looking, but he'd never feel the desire to kiss that person or, god help him, do anything more with them. He really, really didn't like men. Admittedly, he hadn't felt like kissing women either; again, he had thought about it, theoretically, but hadn't found the actual wish in him. Once upon a time, he might have gone to someone else for comfort, now, however? Even the thought disgusted him. It wasn't that he disliked women, or liked men. He didn't want to want anyone else. It didn't have anything to do with his sexuality, although he'd still say he was straight if anyone asked him. He didn't like men.
He just liked Loki.
With a sigh, he turned over and stared at the door to the room instead, not that he didn't already know every inch of his room. Nothing ever changed here. Asgard was just so damn slow, everything happened step for step for step, and the only thing he'd had that was constantly moving, changing, making the golds bright and the greens brighter, had been Loki. With beings who lived for thousands of years, where was the sense in hurrying? They were an advanced culture, had surpassed the technology on Earth in many ways, but change was so slow. So comfortable. Nobody liked to rush anything, but Tony was someone who thrived on change. This world was driving him mad.
Apparently, he did fall asleep over his musings at some point, because the next thing he knew, someone was knocking at his door sharply and Tony was feeling slightly chilled, still laying on the duvet of his bed in leather trousers, tunic and boots.
He groaned, straightening up, and hastily ran a hand through his hair a few times as he got off the bed and padded towards the door. Well, at least he'd look as though he was already dressed, he thought wryly, and then hesitated with his hand on the door handle. What if it was Fandral standing out there? Who else was going to visit him, after all? He had no idea how to deal with the swordsman right now, but he really didn't want to make things awkward between them. Fandral was the one who was the closest to understanding how Tony felt about the whole... Loki thing. It wasn't like he could talk to Marianne about that.
With a short, steadying breath, he pulled the door open and was about to greet whoever stood out there, but he found himself momentarily speechless as he came to face with a blond giant – and no, he wasn't referring to Fandral here.
"Um, ah, my – my liege?" he stammered, because oh dear, how the hell did one address a prince of Asgard (if he wasn't Loki)? There might have been times when he would have been more insolent than this, but then, he hadn't been living on Asgard for months, he hadn't known how to tread in this foreign place – and he'd had Loki, who would somehow always end up covering for him if he stepped out of line.
Thor nodded in greeting and rumbled in his deep voice: "Greetings, Anthony of Midgard. May I enter?"
Tony nodded hastily. "Yeah, sure, of course. Come in." He stepped aside and bit his tongue so he would stop stumbling over his own words. He'd been awake for less than a minute, he wasn't ready to deal with surprise visitors yet. Especially not this one.
He hadn't ever really made a connection with the thunder god; Loki had been avoiding his elder brother wherever he could because they kept riling each other up. Sure, they'd loved each other, but Tony supposed that sibling rivalry was perfectly normal even in the most harmonic of families (and the Odinsons weren't harmonic by any means). Point being, he'd never had much to do with the elder son of Odin, and they certainly never visited each other's private quarters.
"So," he began slowly while Thor entered and looked around in the... well, at least acceptably tidy, there was nothing weird laying around, there was no reason for his nervous fiddling. "To what do I owe the honour?"
"I believe there is no need for formalities," Thor responded, sitting down in a chair as though he owned the place. Being the crown prince, he probably did. In a sense.
The inventor perched on the second armchair in the room, only there for Loki's visits, and forced himself not to fiddle as he looked at his guest – or host, considering whose palace he resided in. Thor looked tired and worn-out; he had barely been to Asgard in the past months, and certainly never long enough to bother with stopping by to visit Tony.
From what he had gathered on chatter and rumours, the engineer understood that he had been travelling the Nine Realms, settling conflicts and quarrels that had been caused by Loki's schemes. Vanaheim was offended, Asgard was constantly teetering on the edge of a war with Jotunheim, some other place had cut in because there were family bonds connecting them to Freyr and Freyja – who were, of course, less than pleased with the course of events and had visited Tony's nightmares more than once.
"Okay then," Tony repeated, feeling unnecessarily jittery, and cleared his throat. "Thor. What brings you here?" He desperately wished for something to busy his hands with, something to tinker or just a glass of something to drink that he could wrap his fingers around.
The thunderer seized him up with a spark of vigilance in his eyes that Tony hadn't spotted there before. It reminded him of Loki, in some distant way; it seemed like the experience actually caused the other man to mature. Well, at least one of them got something out of it.
Gravely, he proclaimed (Thor never just talked, his voice always carried an authority with it that called for a more impressive word, even when he spoke quietly): "I have just returned from Vanaheim."
Tony gave his best not to make it obvious that the names made him tense up uncomfortably; he wasn't sure how successful he was. "I see," he acknowledged, feeling as if it was expected from him to say something.
"I wish to know what transpired between the Lord Freyr and my brother," Thor continued, getting straight to the point, and the inventor nervously licked his dry lips. He wasn't sure how much the prince knew, and he really didn't want to soil Loki's good name – however much he still had in his family, who knew more about the happenings than the rest of Asgard, of course – by letting something slip that got him into trouble. Or as much trouble as was possible, anyway.
"Honestly?" he asked. "I really don't know much."
You killed my son! You killed one of my sons, and you cursed the other. You had me burned by snake venom for years. What more do you want, you malicious hag? Loki's words echoed in his head and he squirmed uncomfortably.
"They seemed to have a... history. I never... I..." I never actually asked Loki about it. I thought I had all the time in the world to find out about it, so I never pressed the issue. Taking a deep, careful breath, Tony looked up from the hem of his tunic which he'd been toying with and forced himself to meet Thor's eyes. "Is it true that Loki had kids?"
The god flinched like he had been hit and his formerly expectant expression closed off in a heartbeat. "We do not speak about them," he responded with steel in his voice, and Tony blinked in surprise.
"You don't talk about his kids? Why? What happened?"
"It is hardly your place to know," Thor snapped sharply, his voice rising as he leaned forward in his chair, and the inventor recoiled and dug his fingers into the armrests of his own seat as he tried to cover up his flinch.
"Sorry," he apologised hastily, "I didn't mean to pry, I just..." He swallowed and avoided Thor's eyes, tense as a bowstring.
There was a rustle of fabric as the thunderer settled back into his armchair with a deep sigh. "I should not take my bad mood out on you," he rumbled and Tony briefly looked up, but back down just as fast. "There was a time when Loki was less timid than he is... was. Than he was in the last few decades. His mischief was getting out of hand, he was overstepping borders with an ease that suited him ill. It had... consequences. And he was not the only one who suffered from them."
"I see," Tony replied slowly and began to settle back down into his chair. He didn't, not really, but he was able to begin piecing the whole thing together. "So Loki has children. Had children," he corrected himself upon seeing the look on the prince's face. "That means he had a wife, too, yeah? Or is he still...?" For some small, probably silly reason, the thought woke a spark of jealousy in him and he suppressed a self-deprecating laugh. Jealous of a dead man's wife. That was a new level of pathetic.
Thor, unaware of his inner conflict, shook his head gravely. "The lady Sigyn's grief was too great, or perhaps it was both of them. Their liaison ended after the death of their children. I don't..." He hesitated, looking suddenly ashamed. "Loki and I were not close at the time," he admitted quietly. "I was... I was among those who blamed him for what occurred."
"Blamed him for the death of his own children?" Tony asked incredulously. "I'm sorry, but I don't get any of this. Could you maybe give me the full story? Because let me tell you, this doesn't help at all."
Thor looked like he was going to reprimand him for his rudeness towards a member of the royal family, but apparently, he wasn't in the mood for that or something, because he deflated again just as fast. With a deep sigh, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and explained: "Their names were Vali and Nari, they were the offsprings of Loki and the lady Sigyn. At the time, about two centuries ago, Asgard was holding a feast with nobles from all the Nine Realms. Loki and Freyja... clashed. Publicly. He humiliated her in front of the court and, maybe worse, everybody believed his tales."
"Tales as in she's sleeping with her brother," Tony stated bluntly.
The prince pulled a face, distinctly uncomfortable. "That was what he said, yes."
The inventor leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees. "Gathered as much, yeah. But my question is, do you believe that?"
"Does it matter?" Thor demanded sharply.
"I don't know," Tony responded with equal fervour, "does it matter whether she killed your brother's kids because he was slandering or if she did it because he was telling the truth? Because I know which one I would take."
"It doesn't matter now!" the prince snapped, his voice rising in volume again. "Loki is dead, just like his sons."
"And you don't want to know whether they died for a reason or not? How fucking messed up is your oh-so-great Asgardian society? I thought you wanted to know about what happened between Freyja and Loki, so fine, I'll tell you." He was very nearly yelling too, now, unsure when he had gotten this worked up, but he felt furious. "Freyja used me as leverage against Loki, and I was there for every minute of it. You said you weren't close to him at the time it happened, and you said it was two centuries ago, yeah? Well, you shoud've seen the way he looked. He was furious, of course, but he was desperate, too, and he was that close to pleading with her because she had already taken his children. And you don't wanna know whether she did it for a reason or not?!"
"Why would it matter to you?" Thor demanded harshly.
"Because it mattered to him!" He sighed, slumping in his chair, and clasped his hands in his lap to stare at his fingers. "It mattered to him and other than you, I didn't even know these children. How can you not care about that? You wanna know what happened between Loki and Freyja, why do you refuse to start at the beginning?"
Thor exhaled harshly. "What good does it do now? The children are dead, as well as Loki –"
"Did you listen to a word I just said?" Tony stared at the thunderer with something close to disbelief. "Look, Loki is – was your brother. Those were his children. They were practically your flesh and blood, and you don't want to know why they had to die? What kind of uncle are you?"
"They weren't," Thor responded with a sudden edge to his voice.
"Pardon?"
"They were not my flesh and blood. Loki was not."
For a few seconds, the inventor just gaped, eyes wide and mouth agape before he laughed, incredulously, hollowly. "Is that how it works?" he asked flatly. "Is that some sort of Asgardian honour thing? Your brother killed himself so he's not your brother anymore? Man, how I love the society here. Seriously. If –"
"Loki will always be my brother," Thor interrupted him heatedly, "but he is not my flesh and blood."
Tony threw his hands up. "Sorry, buddy, but I'm not following. Stupid Midgardian, right here. Care to spell that out to me? Because you're not making any sense."
"You would do well to watch your tone in front of the future king of this realm," the prince growled, and here we go again.
For some reason, Tony felt more exasperated than bothered. Maybe he'd finally stopped giving a fuck. "Alright then, your royal highness, would you have the grace to tell me what the actual hell are you talking about?"
Thor scowled at that, but the inventor had seen him getting into fights over less than such a remark and now, the thunderer simply crossed his arms in front of his chest with an expression of displeasure. Maybe he was going to get that temper in check after all. Gruffly, the god elaborated: "Loki was not of this family. Father took him in when he was an infant, but he is..." He hesitated like there was something on the tip of his tongue that he wasn't sure he wanted to speak out loud. "He is no spawn of Odin's," he said eventually.
Tony narrowed his eyes at the other man. "He never said."
"He did not know," Thor replied, then corrected: "We did not know. Both father and mother kept it from us; Loki found out on his own while I was in Midgard."
"Oh, great," the engineer muttered to himself. He felt a little insulted that nobody had bothered to tell him about the whole thing. But he supposed he was just Loki's servant, after all. What good would it do for him to know about things? "You know, that sort of helps to explain why he was just so damn done with all of you. Tell me, did your parents ever plan on letting him now about that? He was a thousand years old, he'd been married, he's had children, you can hardly tell me they were still waiting for him to grow up. When were you lot going to tell him?"
"How should I know?" Thor yelled, making Tony flinch at the booming quality of his voice. "I was not the one who kept it from him, I never knew myself. Perhaps they were going to keep it from him, perhaps that would have been for the better – you witnessed his final hours, you know what became of him!"
"And that surprises you?" Tony snapped back. "He had the stress of the coronation," – although he wanted nothing more than to yell them into Thor's face, he still kept himself from spilling any of Loki's plans, even though it hardly mattered now – "Freyja pressuring him, then he finds out that he's been adopted, he thinks he loses his brother and suddenly is king, which was never what he wanted, and you're surprised that he goes nuts? Is it really that hard to understand?"
"Stop it!" the prince ordered harshly, flushed with anger.
The inventor laughed incredulously. "Oh, you got nothing more to say, so I'm supposed to just stuff it? Yeah? Stop what? Stop defending your brother who was so fucking scared of being rejected by his family that he rather jumped off a bridge than letting y'all tell him what he did wrong? You know, I used to think my family was fucked up, but this whole thing –"
He was interrupted by Thor grabbing his collar and hauling him off the chair, forcing Tony to stand on his tip-toes if he didn't want to hang limply in the god's grasp as he snarled in his face: "I told you to stop talking! Know your place, son of Stark."
Tony bit his tongue to keep himself from retorting something, because really? That was the best he'd got? I'm a prince and you're a servant, so you're not allowed to have better arguments than me? Still, despite popular belief, Tony did have some amount of common sense that kept him from spitting Thor in the face as he glared up at him defiantly, but kept his mouth shut. Even he had to admit that in his precarious position, it wasn't a good idea to anger the heir to the throne.
"Fine," he hissed between clenched teeth. "But if I may remind you, your majesty, you were the one who asked me to talk. I only complied." What was the worst that Thor could do, anyway? Shove him back out into the slave market? Yeah, that was a possibility, but he wouldn't. Not even Thor with his rash and brutish attitude, Tony was... well, not completely sure of that, but it was enough for him to go on. "And I don't know if you remember, but you were his brother."
The god pulled him even closer, fingers clenched around Tony's tunic, and snapped in his face: "If you know so much better than I do, tell me what I should have done!"
"You could have treated him like an equal, just for starters, instead of constantly looking down on him and belittling him just because he doesn't swing a giant fucking hammer around?" He kept himself from making a comment about Thor's intellect just in time because that would probably be taking things a little far. Besides, it wasn't even like Thor was really stupid; however, when you had something like Mjölnir to back you up, tactical finesse was usually simply not required. "It's not your fault that your father acted like an –" No insulting the king of Asgard, you idiot, Tony reminded himself just in time and swallowed the insult that had been lingering on the tip of his tongue. "...that your father favoured you," he finished lamely. "But I thought siblings were supposed to stick together instead of picking on each other. Like, Jesus, it can't be so hard, can it?"
Thor shoved him then, hard enough to send him tumbling backwards and sprawling into his armchair with a surprised, almost-pained huff. Glaring, Tony sat up straight, but didn't get to his feet since the prince had closed the distance between them, towering over him once again as he snapped: "It is not your place to tell me how I should have behaved towards my brother!"
Not your place. Here we go again. Tony smiled wryly, but the expression died on his features when he looked up to meet Thor's eyes – what he saw there was anger, of course, that much had been evident in his voice as well, but behind that, behind the glimmering in his blue eyes darkened by fury, there was stifling guilt that he was trying so desperately to cover up. Maybe he was unaware of it himself, too absorbed in his anger, but it was there.
No matter what Tony said, no matter how well he reasoned, Thor just wasn't ready. Half a year, and he wasn't ready to accept his own part in what had happened to Loki. Perhaps it was better like that; Tony had accepted, embraced the guilt from the first day like an old friend, and it hadn't done him any good, had it? During the first two months, he'd been so completely and utterly wrecked it had been hard to muster up the resolve to ever get out of bed again.
It still was like that, some days, but they became more rare and he couldn't be more grateful for Frigga being the way she was – on any other world, under a queen like Freyja, he'd have been back out on the slave market or worse within a day after it became clear that he wasn't going to be of use, wallowing in grief as he was. No, she'd made it possible for him to stay here to recover, and between her and Fandral and the regular visits to the kitchen staff that he began to take up again after a while, even if it was just to make himself do something, he... well, he didn't get over it. Of course he didn't, it didn't work like that, not that easily, not that quickly. His nightmares were worse than ever and more than once, he'd been thinking about how he could escape the millennia-long life that Loki had forced upon him before leaving so unexpectedly.
The point being, Tony had seen how guilty he was from the very beginning, having spurred Loki's plan into action, letting himself be captured by Freyr and Freyja and saying all the wrong this at the wrong moment. Thor, on the other hand, didn't want to see that the way he and his father had behaved towards Loki all his life must have had an impact on him, and although that probably spared him a lot of pain, Tony didn't think he would freely choose to be oblivious like that.
He would pity Thor if his contempt wouldn't overshadow his compassion for this man who had not only screwed up royally, but was too cowardly to admit it to himself. So much for godly courage.
Somehow, he was sure that Thor knew he was at fault, too. He was unable to acknowledge it, but he knew, and at some point, realisation was going to hit him, and when it came, it was going to hit him hard. Again, Tony almost pitied him, but not really. He was in misery now, but he had begun to take slow, small, baby-steps towards recovery and it was much less likely for him to come crashing back down with a sudden guilt complex because he was carrying its weight already.
Quietly, calmly, he nodded, straightening himself on the armchair. "You're right," he replied flatly. "It wasn't my place. I'm sorry."
Thor seemed to deflate, surprised, but then nodded curtly. He seemed uncertain what to do with his pent-up fury now, but even he wasn't hot-headed enough to take it out on Tony anyway. That, at least, had gotten better in the past months that he'd spent travelling to balance out the damage Loki had done to the dynamics between all Nine Realms.
The prince drew a long, slow breath and nodded again, apparently really at a loss now that there was no resistance from Tony anymore. He probably would have preferred if he had gotten to take his anger out physically; now, he would have to search another outlet than the mouthy servant (not a slave anymore, as he sometimes had to remind himself) who was still living in his brother's quarters. What a pity.
"It was not," Thor confirmed after another few seconds. Apparently, he was really not in the mood for finding anything out anymore, since he seemed to deem the conversation as finished. Turning on his heel, he left the room, slamming the door for good measure.
Tony winced at the sound despite himself, and only now that Thor was outside, he allowed himself to draw a shaky breath and pull his legs up so he could rest his feet on the armchair while he let his head drop to his knees. His heart was pounding in his chest like it was trying desperately to get out and, belatedly, the adrenaline made his hands shake.
What the fuck had he been thinking, standing up to a prince – the prince of Asgard like that? Some months ago, that would have meant his immediate return to the market, if he was lucky. If not... well.
"Stupid," he hissed at himself, "stupid, stupid, stupid." Frigga wasn't always going to be there to protect him when he screwed up, just like Loki hadn't been there like Tony had assumed he always would. He couldn't go and take risks like that, how fucking dumb had that been? Just because Thor had been talking shit about Loki –
But maybe, that was enough of a reason. If nobody else was going to stand up for Loki, if Asgard was going to remember him as the prince who destroyed the rainbow bridge (because of course, the blame for that went to Loki instead of his moron of a brother), then there maybe should be somebody else than just Frigga and Fandral who were going to maintain the image of Loki that he deserved. Not an angel, far from it, but not what these people made him out to be, either.
Still, was the memory of a dead man worth going back out there? Yes, it had sentimental value, but Tony Stark was everything but sentimental. What was the point for him to keep struggling against Asgard, anyway? He was a servant, who the hell was going to listen to him, anyway? He was going to high-tail it out of here as soon as the Bifröst was functional again. He was going to go –
Not home. But back to Midgard. Earth, he reminded himself. And after long enough, he'd be able to call it home again, too. Probably. Even though there'd be something missing, a presence that he'd grown accustomed to here; he still caught himself sometimes, raising his voice for a remark directed at Loki, some passing comment that came to his mind and slipped past his lips before he could think about it. Brain-to-mouth-filter, ha. One lesson that his immortality wouldn't be able to teach him either, too, by the looks of it.
A polite, quiet knock on his door interrupted his thoughts and Tony quickly took a deep breath, nervousness twisting in his stomach. Who in the world...?
Hastily, he sat down normally, his feet planted on the ground, and smoothed out the tunic that Thor had crinkled, adding to the fact that Tony had already slept in it. Deeming project 'looking fresh and well-rested and healthy' a lost cause, he called out more shakily than he would have liked: "Yeah? Come in."
The door opened slowly to reveal a mess of blond hair, however, it was not Thor's honey-tone, but the lighter blond of Fandral, who carefully stepped into the room. Tony tensed and immediately felt guilty for it; he knew that Fandral wasn't going to harm him, but the memory of the kiss from the night before was insistent on the forefront of his mind. He forced a smile, biting his tongue as he reminded himself that Fandral wasn't about to push for more, even though he was in Tony's space, three steps away from his bed, blocking his way to the exit –
"Anthony? Tony." The blond warrior took a careful step towards the armchair Tony was sitting in, but the inventor flinched, his eyes too wide and his breath too fast, and Fandral immediately froze and put his hands up in a show of peace. "Tony, I am sorry for causing you distress, I really am," he apologised, looking helpless, and rationally, Tony knew that he was acting stupid and there was no reason to fear Fandral, not Fandral of all the people in Asgard, but having his mind actually catch up with that was another matter entirely.
"'m sorry," he managed to get out breathlessly, arms slung around his middle, "sorry, I – I didn't mean to – I can't –"
"Hush," Fandral interrupted, trying to soothe him without getting close and possibly setting the inventor off even more. He looked helpless, but did his best to cover it up – there was a reason that Tony liked him, he remembered, he just needed to get his brain to grasp that. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. It's fine. I mean, you're fine. You will be fine." He huffed a frustrated breath, looking like he was about ready to slap himself, but his stammering drew an airy chuckle out of Tony.
"I know," he murmured, "I know you wouldn't, I'm sorry, I'm – it's a bad day, I'm so sorry –"
"Don't apologise," Fandral cut in once again. "Don't waste your breath. Just breathe deeply. I know you can do it." He took a few slow steps forward until he could crouch down in front of Tony's armchair, hands twitching as if to reach out, but he stopped himself to ask: "Is it alright if I touch you?"
The offer sent another stab of panic through the engineer and he shook his head rapidly, another apology already on his lips. "Not now – not yet, I'm sorry," he stammered, "I need – I need a moment, can I..."
"Take all the time you want," the swordsman finished quickly, staring up at him out of worried blue eyes. "Just... breathe."
Tony nodded and, for a bit, did just that: taking deep breaths, as slowly as he could manage, until he could feel his pulse slowing down slightly, enough to reduce the nausea that had started to spread inside him when he'd gotten dizzy from his shallow gasps. He swallowed rapidly a few times, took another deep breath and then forced himself to unclench his arms from around his middle.
Apparently, Fandral took that as his cue to speak up as he said quietly: "I came to apologise about yesterday. It wasn't my place." Tony felt a thin smile tugging at his lips like he was hearing his own private inside joke, Thor's words from before twisted around. "I hadn't realised it would... affect you as much."
"'m sorry too," he muttered, although he wasn't sure for what. "I freaked out, it was ridiculous, but I can't – not again, not yet –"
"You don't have to," Fandral assured him quickly. "You really don't." He seemed like he wanted to add something, but didn't know how to. Tony could relate.
"I know," he murmured, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling as he took another deep breath, feeling tired and exhausted in more than just one way. "I know."