Author's note: Well, this chapter took a little longer than expected. I just got overpowered by a couple of new ideas for the story a few days ago, and it seemed a lot more fun and tempting to write that instead of doing the necessary editing and tinkering with this old, mostly already finished chapter to get it in proper shape to be posted. ^^ But here we go, finally, starting off with some probably not in the slightest unexpected Tony!guilt…
The beta-electro-transformer that he's been working on for the last week is lying broken and forlorn on the workbench, but what's on top of his mind at the moment is something else entirely, the disturbing image imprinted into his brain as if it has been burned there with laser.
The image of a certain god of mischief huddling on the floor like a dog expecting to be kicked by its master for pissing on the carpet. Only to then dissolve into a crying, sobbing heap, as Tony sat there and awkwardly tried to offer words of consolation and reassurance to stop the unexpected flood of tears, his hand rubbing slow circles on a shivering shoulder.
Eventually, as the tears finally dried up and the sobbing subsided, the god had slowly picked himself up from the floor and then walked out of the workshop without speaking a word. Tony didn't stop him, realizing it was probably not the time. A few minutes later, Jarvis had informed him that Loki was back in his room, lying on his bed. And Tony figured the god could probably use some time to himself, so he hasn't called him back yet.
And frankly, so could he.
Even now that it's actually happened, before his very eyes no less, the mere idea of Loki of all people crying is one of the weirdest, most awkward concepts imaginable. Because how could such a haughty and prideful being ever break down and cry?
At that, he's washed over by another wave of gut-wrenching shame. Because it's not until this incident that he's really understood what kind of treatment Loki must have been expecting from him all this time. And instead of addressing that, he'd acted like the whole thing was more like some kind of game than anything else, never realizing or stopping to think what terrible strain the god must have been under since coming here.
The concept is so alien and difficult to wrap his head around for someone like him who's been raised on the whole concept of inalienable human rights, but of course, that's obviously not how Asgard is viewing these things. And as Loki's appointed master, Tony is technically allowed to do everything and anything to him, and yet he's never reassured him until just now that he isn't going to. No matter what Loki has done and what crimes he has committed, Tony should have done so. But he didn't, instead letting Loki's mind imagine who knows what.
No wonder the god finally broke.
With a grimace, he wonders how much of what transpired today was brought by Loki's pre-made assumptions already in place when coming here, and how much was caused by those assumptions being fuelled by Tony's own behaviour. Unbidden, the memory arises of the day of Loki's arrival, when he forced the god to his knees and shoved that shock stick into his face, effectively threatening someone who had no means of fighting back.
And it's not about whether Loki deserves it or not, but whether it's right or not.
It had certainly felt good threatening him like that, in the heat of the moment, but now, looking back, he can't say that it ever felt right. Not that he actually did intend to hurt Loki back there, he just wanted to watch him squirm a little, but the god had no way of reading his mind. Of course he had expected the worst. What reason did he have to expect differently?
And really, when delivered to his doorstep, Loki had in his mind still been the arrogant, prideful, and conceited god he had faced off with during the battle of Manhattan; he'd never considered that Loki might find his new situation… terrifying, as opposed to merely a grave insult to his pride. And he had wanted to take that conceited creature down to the ground without stopping to realize that he had already been smashed into it as soundly as that one time the Hulk had used him to remodel Tony's floor.
For someone who pays lip service to the assertion that slavery is horrible and wrong, he had sure taken to the situation quickly. The Einherjer guards had barely left the room before he jumped on the opportunity to assert his power over someone who no longer held any.
For the first time, he tips the scales over in his mind, trying to imagine himself in Loki's position. Having all the human rights he has ever taken for granted stripped away and every semblance of control over his own life taken from him, only to be thrown upon someone else's mercy, someone who also happens to be one of his worst enemies. It's not a pleasant thought.
And then, he realizes that he has already been in a position not unlike that, once. In that dark, dank, and miserable cave in Afghanistan. Of course, they had tortured and he hadn't. So it was different.
Expect that it wasn't. Because he had still taken advantage of someone's helpless position, someone who was utterly in his power. In that way, he had acted little better than his former captors had.
Sighing, he rubs his palms over his face as unease and discomfort roil inside of him. He never knew that his own grasp on morality would turn out to be so fickle and easily swayed. Not that he ever considered himself the moral guardian of everything just and proper like Captain Spangles, far from it, but he never did see himself as someone who would stoop to threaten and belittle someone who had already had everything taken from him either. Even if the concept of humiliating Loki did lose its appeal some time ago, he can't deny his own actions when the god first came here.
Loki's life, future, existence – it's all in his hands now. And fuck, if that isn't just one of the biggest and most unwanted responsibilities he has ever gotten saddled with. And he obviously couldn't handle it, so instead he treated it like it was some sort of game – poking and prodding and provoking to see what reaction he would get, without taking the situation seriously. He never wanted this responsibility, but now he realizes he has no choice but to face up to it.
And he realizes then that Loki truly has nothing left, save his own life. Everything else, even including that very life, is at someone else's discretion. Namely his discretion. Even inmates serving time in prison are entitled to certain rights, no matter what crimes they have committed, but Loki doesn't even have that; the Asgardian court that sentenced him made sure of that when they dictated his current position as a slave.
It's a sobering thought. And one he'd do well to take into account from now on.
The time for hiding is long past. Hiding and evading didn't solve anything last time, and it certainly won't now. Trying to avoid someone who will be living in his house for the foreseeable future is a futile pursuit, doomed to fail, and won't lead to anything good in the long run, regardless of how much easier it might temporarily be.
No, for once, for the first time since the god's coming here, he's going to sit down and have a real talk with him and make those things clear that he should have a long time ago.
He's back on the bed in his room, feeling like he's been drained of every little speck of strength and power he had left. His body feels empty, almost like it's floating from lightness; in comparison, his head feels like a heavy paper weight.
But while his body might be hollow, his head is all the more stuffed full with wandering thoughts.
Though, to be more specific, there is really only one thought in there right now – how he, a mere hour ago, had let himself be completely undone by… whatever it was that had come washing over him, causing him to so miserably lose all control of himself.
For once, there was no need for Tony to humiliate him, because Loki managed it all too well by himself. Not even Tony could have done it better. Like a mere child, like a pitiable wretch, he had broken down and cried in front of the man, wept and sobbed uncontrollably on the floor as the tears kept running down his face, unstoppable like water from a broken dam.
And if that's not worthy of pitiful contempt, he doesn't know what is.
No wonder Tony thinks him too pathetic, too pitiful to even lay a hand on. And perhaps the man is right in his assessment; he really is a wretched, deplorable creature, showcasing his weakness like that.
And he could feel the pity radiating from the man as he lay there mewling pathetically on the very floor of his workshop. In a way, it would have been easier to handle if Tony had simply laughed at him instead and mocked him for his disgraceful display; at least that would have been expected and understandable.
But instead, he got another helping of that stinging pity.
Though, he supposes that's still preferable to being beaten into a pulp for unintentionally causing the destruction of whatever gadget Tony had been working on for so long.
Suddenly Jarvis' voice sounds over the intercom, interrupting his musings. "Mr Stark would like a word with you, Mr Laufeyson. Please proceed to the living room with immediate effect."
And really, he has no desire to talk to Tony, or even be in the same room as him, but he knows he has no choice in the matter. So he slowly pushes himself up into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, where he remains for a few heartbeats, breathing deeply to get rid of the exhaustion pressing down on him, before finally standing up and heading out the door with a sigh.
He's not looking forward to talking with Tony at all.
Could it really be… that they're actually going to talk this time?
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