Whoa, okay, so the thing I did not expect from the response of the last chapter was how many people asked that Loki get a pet kitten. Seriously, I expected people to be more inclined to the memorial scene than the kitty! Haha, to be quite honest, buying a kitty for Loki never registered in my mind to be a possibility, but now I am strongly considering it. See what you all have done to me?!
I admit, however, that since I've got a lot of the story planned and written out, I don't see any moment where I actually could give Loki a cat. If I end up deciding I will, there's a 70% chance that I would put a story of that on my Tumblr and not here. But we shall see how things turn out.
On a miscellaneous note, I was rereading parts of my novel I finished about five months ago and haven't touched since. I'm seriously wondering if I need to rethink my life choices because nearly every page of the latter half of the 271 pages of that thing was oozing with angst. (And on that note, I should mention that it took me about two years to write that thing. I'm on like, month 1 and a half of writing 'Syrgja' and it's already on page freaking page 261 what is going on with my life)
I have impeccable timing. And when I say impeccable I mean hilariously ironic. Next week is all my midterms, so there will be no Monday update—there will most likely be a Thursday update still. I am thinking that from here on out updates will generally be once per week, most likely on Mondays, with the occasional week where I update twice. Hopefully the way I ended this particular chapter won't make the wait too grueling…
Loki was typing on the computer—he has gotten way too adept at using computers for an old-fashioned medieval prince from the ancient times. Steve still hasn't figured out how to turn off a cell phone yet.
Tony watched him precariously from the corner of his eyes, tapping at his own JARVIS screen. JARVIS hadn't stopped singing for a week (apparently Loki was bedridden the several days after Natasha took him on the field trip, he had plenty of time to perfect JARVIS' bug). It was hard to explain it to Pepper, who has seemed to have gotten very used to Loki's presence and was convinced that he was in no way responsible for such mischief. It wasn't until JARVIS reached modern times and wouldn't stop repeating Kidzbop music that she finally relented in scolding Loki. Loki found it all very amusing.
And Pepper thought Tony was obstructive when he was bored.
"If you're putting another virus into JARVIS again," said Tony, "I'll have you know I've been updating his security system by tenfold."
Loki smirked.
"You're taking that as a challenge, aren't you?" said Tony.
Loki nodded. Tony rubbed his hands together.
"Goodie. I wanted a game. You see what you can do with JARVIS, I'll fix it up before it lasts for five minutes."
Loki raised his eyebrows and smiled.
"Starting now," said Tony.
Immediately all of the screens on Tony's computers had an animated pony running around the sides. When Tony tried to reach it, it avoided his finger and cursor. Scowling, with a couple of keystrokes, the horse was banished.
"Try again," said Tony.
Two minutes later, when Tony was leisurely checking his email, every time he tried to click an unopened email it would bring him to pictures of rusted iron. Tony snorted and pulled several strings, unraveling the coding until everything was back to normal.
"I used to do something similar to this when I was a kid," said Tony, typing in the correct coding. "You know, mind games. Educational mind games, anyway. That was the only sort of game my dad would play with me, if he ever had the time for me in the first place."
Loki glanced up briefly at Tony before manipulating the code. Suddenly, a cloud of countless other cursors appeared on Tony's screen, hiding his real mouse cursor from view as he tried to move out of the page. Tony squinted in concentration, trying to reach his page of code to find the error. JARVIS flashed a pop-up message of a security breach and he quickly ironed out the problem.
"He was obsessed with Steve," said Tony. "Apparently they knew each other back in the war or something. Well, when Steve went missing, all that my old man ever did was look for him. Even when I was born and growing up, he didn't really consider me. Always expected me to be as perfect as Steve, and honestly I didn't live up to his standard. Can't say I really understood him. Or vice versa."
Loki was watching him curiously, but wasn't so taken yet as to stop JARVIS from changing everything into Old Norse. Tony groaned; even the coding wasn't in English anymore. He wheedled a computer translator on JARVIS to chisel his way through the ancient language.
"So Point Break tells me that you and your old man aren't on good terms either," said Tony.
Loki's gaze sharpened and he looked away.
"Come on. It's understandable. Your relationship with him broke, you don't feel any connection to him anymore—yeah. I get it. I do."
Loki pursed his lips. Out of nowhere, JARVIS started reciting Shakespeare. Tony muted JARVIS, unfazed.
"Now, maybe my dad didn't keep a huge secret from me, but I sort of feel like I can relate to you. He made you feel overshadowed. Less than best. As if he didn't love you enough, if at all. You feel like—like you don't think he wanted you because he wanted to love another son, but for some other purpose."
Loki's hands lowered, his stony gaze upon Tony. Tony stared challengingly back.
"I'm not trying to hit a nerve," said Tony. "I just wanted to let you know that—well—look." He hastily debugged JARVIS so that the Shakespearean soliloquy came to an end. "I'm no sort of advice-giving genie at all. In fact, I don't do this kind of stuff. But I heard your story—or at least, Thor's story about you—and I can't help but just think, damn, if certain little things went right, if little details were changed, what if everything was different? What if instead of throwing me out the window, we could have been buddies in some really weird way? Because, quite honestly—" Infinite pop-up windows blossomed across his screen and Tony had to slam his fist against his keyboard in order to fix it. "You're an interesting guy. Or at least, you seem like one."
Loki hunched his shoulders, unsure whether to welcome these words or to bar them from him with a high stone wall. Tony couldn't help but not blame him. After all, Loki did throw him out the window instead of being chummy with him, and they technically were sworn enemies had it not been for this unthinkable situation. But Tony knew he wasn't talking like this to Loki now because of that self-proclaimed debt he owed Thor. He said it because it was the truth, more or less, and even the god of lies deserved to hear it.
"I don't really care who or what you are, honestly," said Tony. "And I don't really give a rat's ass about what your dad thinks about you, or more accurately, what you think your dad thinks of you, because that doesn't actually make you. You don't have to let it change you. And actually, who you are—really are—you know, you're all right. You're all right, Loki."
Without warning, all of the computer systems shut off. Tony's screen flickered and disappeared; all the computers around him faded to black. Startled, Tony turned back to Loki, expecting a grin of triumph. There was nothing but a pale face of uneasiness, green round eyes disbelieving.
Maybe he said something wrong. Well, shit.
"Hey," said Tony. He wheeled his chair closer to Loki. An emotionally unstable Norse god was already hard enough to deal with; a potentially broken one was way off Tony's charts of ability. He was the one responsible for fixing the hunk of rock in Loki's chest, after all, and nothing more. "I mean it. If you were really all that bad, I don't doubt you'd still be able to throw me out the window without your magic. Or anyone else in here, really. But, well, you aren't. You're better than you think you are."
Loki swallowed, his eyes still fixed on an invisible point, before he stood up abruptly. He walked past Tony, not even glancing at him, heading toward the door to leave the room. Just before leaving, he rapped his knuckles on one of the blank computer screens, as if to say, You lose, before disappearing through the door.
Tony stared at the shut door, wondering if he ought to at least get a gold star for trying. But a part of him was crestfallen, something he hardly acknowledged. The time he was honest—earnest, even—he doubted Loki even believed him.
"JARVIS," he said, only to remember Loki had shut him off. When Tony tried to turn JARVIS back on again, all that he got was static.
"Well," said Tony, leaning back in his chair. "Son of a gun might have just killed my butler."
Thor was exhausted in both mind and body, and even though he had been trying to catch up on sleep ever since he came to live in Stark's tower, he couldn't find rest within him. He spent endless nights tossing and turning, worrying about Loki's state, eventually going to Loki's room to make sure his brother was safe and healthy, only to have something blunt and heavy thrown at his head.
"Why do you even bother?" Clint once asked him when Thor emerged from Loki's room, a red gash across his forehead from where a lamp grazed him. Thor only shook his head and tried against an hour later, or maybe a day later.
But his patience was wearing thin as much as his worry multiplied. Loki never locked his room; he had no problem demanding his privacy should he want it, but when Thor knocked on the door and wriggled the handle, he found it stubbornly immobile. He tried to keep himself from concluding the worst, but his nerves were already far on edge.
"Loki, open this door, please," Thor said, knocking a little louder. Thor knew Loki was in the room; he wasn't that dull as people liked to think him. "I want to speak with you."
Tony had found Thor in the gym not too long ago, passingly mentioning that he 'kinda sorta might have said something to Loki that looked like it sent him flying off the edge.' Thor set off immediately to find Loki, only to find his little brother locked in his own room, silent, unyielding. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what it was that Tony said to Loki ("I didn't mean to be offensive at all, I swear. Stop glaring at me like that.") but while he knew Loki took others' words quite seriously, few would send him running away.
"Loki," Thor said, his voice growing stern. He knew he could break the door down if he truly had to, but he desperately wished it would not come to that. "Loki, please. I want to help you. I will help you. But you must let me."
Still nothing. Thor gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the doorknob. Why couldn't Loki just let him in? Did he think Thor would attack him? Yell at him? Was there no trust for his older brother that he feared him?
When there was a silence that lasted five minutes, Thor finally slammed against the door. It didn't stand a chance against him and flew open, barely hanging on its hinges. Loki was in the corner of the room, huddled near the window. The moment he saw Thor his face was drawn with pure anger and he curled his hands into fists.
"Loki, enough of this," said Thor. "Locking your doors will not keep your monsters away."
Loki reached over and made to grab the alarm clock off the table near him, but Thor strode over and blocked Loki's hand before it could make it.
"You cannot push me away anymore like this," said Thor. "You have evaded me for so long, but I cannot keep myself away just because you refuse to even look at me. Why is this, Brother? Do you not believe I want to help you?"
Loki wrenched his hand away from Thor's and stood from his seat, pacing beside the window. Thor could see the fury in Loki draw his face taut.
"Why do you shut yourself away?" said Thor. "Why do you bolt your doors? Stark thinks it is his fault, but he has not tried to hurt you."
Loki set his glare toward the window, refusing to make eye contact with Thor. As much as Thor wanted to help Loki, his frustration was beginning to surge. Nothing he did seemed to do any good, no matter how hard he tried or how much he did, and he didn't know what to do anymore. Loki refused his help even though Thor knew Loki needed something, so why couldn't it just be him?
"Will you not give my friends and me a chance?" said Thor. "A chance to help, a chance to understand?"
I don't need you, said Loki's burning glower. I don't need any of you. I don't want to be here. I don't want—
"You refuse them?" said Thor. "Banner and Stark are working endlessly to find a way to keep the Mind Gem from festering on your life. Will you let your pride deny that? The people in this household strive to protect you and keep you healthy. But you won't even let me see you. Will you not see that you are safe here?"
He stepped closer to Loki. Loki stiffened as Thor advanced toward him, raising his arms slightly. Thor didn't know if he felt exasperated or anxious anymore. He was so tired and all he wanted was for the world to just stop.
"What is it that Stark said that upset you so?" said Thor. "Stark says he never meant to anger you or hurt you in any way. What is it that he said to you? Did he say something you took offense to?"
Loki neither confirmed nor denied it, opting only to burn Thor with his eyes.
"Was it triggering to your fears? Was it a lie?" said Thor. "Did he tell you a lie?"
Somehow, those words made Loki snap. He struck Thor in the chest, a fuming grimace upon his face. Utterly confused and indignant, Thor gripped Loki's wrists tightly, almost as iron as the handcuff on Loki's one hand, to keep him from hitting him any further.
"Stop this!" said Thor. "You're being as brutish as a Frost Giant!"
The words had slipped from Thor's lips before his mind could catch up, and the moment he spoke the common Asgardian insult he felt his own blood chill as if he was the very beast he spoke of. Loki's eyes widened and he stopped moving immediately, his lips parted in shock. Thor instantly hated himself, catching his folly far too late.
"Loki," he said, his voice shaking. "Loki—brother—that was absolutely horrid of me."
His heart shattered at the sight of Loki's face. Loki looked absolutely betrayed, his wide eyes gleaming with broken anger. He immediately wrenched his hands away from Thor's.
"Loki," Thor said, his voice thick. "Oh, Loki, I did not mean that. I meant nothing of that. Please, Loki—I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Loki shook his head, putting a hand to the side of his head as if it spun. He swallowed the blow of words until it soured in his stomach. Thor reached out for him again but Loki dodged him, rushing out the door. He slammed the door shut behind him, nearly shattering the doorframe.
His brother's name still on his lips, Thor flew forward, wrenching the door open to try to catch Loki, but Loki was already gone from the hallway.
"JARVIS," said Thor, breathless. "JARVIS, where is my brother? Show me where my brother is."
Why did I say that? Thor thought. How could I say that, how dare I say that? What was I thinking?
The look on Loki's face when he heard still haunted his mind, and his heart grew so heavy it sank to his soles.
"Your request was overridden, Mr. Odinson. My deepest apologies," said the voice from the ceiling.
"Overridden?" said Thor. He shook his head. He didn't need a computer to help him find Loki. He hurried down the hall, yelling for his brother, yelling because he knew, he knew, he knew—it was the last straw.
(He remembered how as Odin put Loki on trial, while Loki was given a chance to speak and all of Asgard's nobles tried to protest loudly to overcrowd the sound of his voice, how Loki did not scream. He did not shout or spit or snarl like they expected him. But he raised his cold, hateful eyes to Odin and spoke calmly and clearly.
"You punish me," Loki said, "for starting a war on Midgard. You disown me for the murder of mortals. You lock me away for attempting subjugation of their realm."
He raised his head higher, his jaw trembling with fury.
"But was it not you and your forefathers who stole the life source of the Frost Giants from Jotunheim? Who crippled their throne and people until they were reduced to live like the savages you always thought them to be? Who claimed that this was for the good of the lowly, uncivilized Frost Giants and for all the Nine Realms? And you—who were renowned for such?"
Thor felt his heart clench at Loki's far too true words. Beware the God of Lies who spoke of the truth.
"What is the difference?" said Loki, his voice empty of doubt. "You think the Frost Giants less valuable of life and more deserving of imprisonment under your thumb. Why is it, All-Father? Why?"
The crowd protested and jeered, cursing the Frost Giants and mocking Loki for not knowing this. They did not understand the tears that welled in their king's one eye or the sobs muffled behind their queen's hand. They did not notice their golden prince's shouts to shut up, shut up the whole lot of you, because he was afraid of the truth.
When Loki received no answer, none but the drowns of the audience, he closed his eyes—a tear disappeared behind those lids—and Thor did not hear him speak since then)
Loki, don't listen to me, he thought. I was wrong, I am wrong, I am the thoughtless one. I am as foolish and brutish as Thor, and that is the most imprudent anyone can be. Please, brother, please—
He felt as if he had just killed something, or someone. Perhaps he had.
A fist flying against the temple of the SHIELD agent was enough to completely knock the senses out of him, but Loki didn't pay enough attention to check. All he wanted was out. Out of the tower, out of the realm, out of sight, out of sound.
He didn't know where his feet were taking him, so long as it was far away. He didn't know how many times he nearly got hit by traffic or cyclists as he ran away, having not heard their horns or screeches. All he could hear was Thor's voice, Thor's words, Thor.
They shouldn't hurt because they were true.
They shouldn't hurt because they never did before, when he and Thor were children and jeering at each other in games by comparing each other as such creatures.
They shouldn't hurt because he was a Frost Giant.
So why did he feel like he was ripped apart when Thor said this to him?
He clenched his fists, breathing heavily, trying to keep everything that raged inside of him bottled in his heart. Jotun, Jotun, Jotun—just the name of hie being sounded savage, coarse, awful. It was inevitable. It was given. It was understandable. Even Loki hated himself even more for it, so why should he expect different from anyone else, much less Thor?
He ran away, far from everyone else until he saw less and less faces. This was a concrete jungle, a labyrinth built of horrid sounds and the growls and screeches of metal machines. A perfect environment for a beast. He ran from his shadow that trickled after his ankles like oil stains on the pavement. If only the real monster wasn't already inside of him.
His hands were cold, and blue veins pressed against his white skin. If he was in his Jotun form (his true form, his real skin, this is the disguise) would Thor still claim he loved him? Or would he kill him, just as he had promised so long ago? There was no place for monsters in brotherhood. Nowhere—they belonged nowhere.
Thor was right, Loki thought. Thor was right—what Stark said earlier was a lie. The mortal's confession that had shaken him so much with incredulity just an hour or so ago was now a crushing windstorm.
He had processed it—he tried to understand it.
He had tried to understand why Stark said those words, meant those words—afraid that he did not understand them the way Stark meant.
But—
There was no separating himself from the monster, not the monster of Jotunheim, not the monster of his past, not the monster of his heart. No, Stark did not understand. He did not mean those words.
We told you, didn't we?
Nothing but a worthless monster.
Something stung inside Loki and he collapsed against a wall, clutching his chest. He didn't know if it was because he upset his still fragile body or if he just couldn't take it anymore. When he finally caught his breath, he pushed himself up to stand taller on his shaking legs. He looked around at the many brick walls that surrounded him, the quiet streets and cluttered alleyways. This was nowhere he had ever seen before. Blinking confusedly, he tried to retrace his steps, but everywhere looked exactly the same—the towering buildings, the vehicles lined against the sidewalk, the grubby gutters—he couldn't even see Stark Tower from here.
He limped faster, trying to find some sort of familiarity. Soulless faces passed him, but he couldn't bring himself to look at them, much less ask for directions in his mute state. The hurt he had felt gave way to the panic as he realized that he was utterly lost and very far from home.
No, not home. Stark Tower.
It was cold, and he shivered in the thin jacket he wore. He felt eyes cling to him as he wandered aimlessly through the streets, trying to read the signs on the street corners without an inkling of what they meant. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his fear under pressure. He had been without direction or home many times before—he would not let this scare him.
(Once, in their youth, Thor fought with Loki that upset Loki so much, he ran off into the woods, only to be swallowed whole by the shadows and irrevocably lost. He wandered for hours, crying because he could not understand, and by the time the search party found him half a day later Loki was bloodied and bruised, even more afraid of the nightmares in the shadows than any punishment or wild beast he could come face to face with. "Why didn't you call out?" they asked. "Why didn't you say something?" He had wanted to say, why didn't you listen?)
He wanted to go home. To Asgard—no, to Stark Tower—no, to the security of his own mind—no. He would find a home, somewhere where no one could touch or speak to him. A pigeon, an empty journal, a patterned scarf, a mirror—not a mirror, a mirror was too difficult. A pigeon, an empty journal, a patterned scarf, a sharp knife, anywhere, anything at all.
"Well, look who wandered too far from home."
Loki looked up immediately, his heart jumping into his throat. He spun around, trying to find that all too familiar voice. This side of town was full of silence, people passing by as if they heard nothing. He rubbed his chest, wondering if the Mind Gem's power had multiplied.
"We ought to punish the mongrel for running away from home."
Only then did Loki realize that all those humans were staring at him. He felt his heart stop in his chest and understood that he was backed into an alleyway, no right or left to run into.
"Our master wants his pet back, after all."
The one speaking—an unusually tall man with a leering face, suddenly ripped in front of Loki. His skin stretched and tore as the Chitauri's shape-shifting abilities faded from its grotesque body. Immediately, all the others alongside it tore off their human façade, towering over Loki until shadows completely covered him. There must have been about twenty of them before him at the mouth of the alleyway, their rifles poised in their ready hands, their eyes indescribably hungry.
Loki backed into the wall, his entire body trembling. There was nothing for him—no magic, no sword, not even a loose brick to throw. He was completely empty-handed and very, very alone.
He could feel the Mind Gem against his heart hum with sadistic excitement.
"And why would we ever want to refuse our master?" said the Chitauri leader.
Like a scourge sent from a wrathful deity, the Chitauri swarmed him.