Author's note: So, for those of you who were curious about Loki's thoughts on the events in the previous chapter, well, hope you enjoy. ^^
It's raining outside, big drops of water smattering against the window panes. He's sitting with a book in his hand, though his eyes keep drifting towards the grey, rain-heavy sky. He remembers a time when he used to sit at the window like a silent statue, longingly gazing outside, certain he would never get to stand beneath that sky as long as was staying here in Tony's tower.
It's strange how something that is no further away in the past than to still be counted in months can still feel like an eternity ago. Almost as distant as his childhood in the Royal Halls and the memories of how he would chase his brother through the corridors or sneak on silent feet through the supposedly secret pathways of the Halls, exploring and discovering.
However, what's on his mind this time, as he gazes through the window, is the vivid recollection of what had played out the last time he ventured outside the tower. Everything had happened so quickly, like in a disjointed dream. He hadn't even stopped to think or deliberate, he had just reacted. It had been so close, too; another second and the little girl – and probably he as well – would have been hit by that oncoming car. Of course, the old Loki – the one who tried to conquer Midgard – would never have done something like that, would never have risked his own life for a mortal.
But he's not the old Loki anymore. He's not sure exactly when it was that that changed, only that it did somewhere along the way.
And he still remembers how the woman had smiled at him as he handed her her child back, squirming and crying as it had been in his arms. How she had hugged not only the daughter that had just been snatched from the jaws of death, but him as well. Despite the smile on her face, there had been tears running down her cheeks, wet against his own as she had held him tight.
He had thought, then, that he should say something to her, but he was at a loss for words. Not even the Silvertongue could find anything to say in that moment, the situation being one he had never found himself in before in his long life. So instead, he had just resorted to awkwardly pat the woman on the back, her daughter still squeezed in between their bodies.
Even now, he can still recall her face, every line and feature of it, looking at him in a way that he never remembers anyone looking at him before. And he realizes that he doesn't know anything about the woman, not even her name. Perhaps she had a loved one that got killed during his attempted invasion of Midgard. Maybe even her husband, the father of the little girl he had just saved. He doesn't know. Nor will he ever.
And perhaps that is just as well.
He also recalls how that old man – as much a stranger to him as the woman – had called him a hero, and how the people around them had shouted their agreement.
A hero. No one has ever called him that before, despite his having been called so many other things in his life. Nor did he ever fancy himself to be one. Sure he had read all those stories and sagas and myths when he was a child, nestled up in bed beneath his blankets with a book almost half the size of him as company. And he had breathlessly delved into the exploits of Asgard's heroes, of Karl the Bloodaxe and Erik the Victorious and Hjalmar the Ironbeard and all those other legends so heralded in Asgard, hoping that perhaps one day, he could be like them too. Fearsome in battle, glorious in victory, brave in the face of death. A warrior. A conqueror. A hero.
But those whimsical childhood fantasies had soon faded, only to be replaced by stark and bitter reality. He would never be the kind of man that the skalds would weave poetry and songs about. Not Loki Liesmith, the Silvertongue, the god of chaos and mischief. Not him. Not like his big brother Thor, who even in his younger years embodied all the values that were so treasured among their people.
He had been so certain of it – he just wasn't cut out to be a hero.
And yet, those strangers in the street had called him exactly that. It had been a strange experience, with even stranger feelings swelling inside of his chest. Was this how those heroes of old had felt when they had returned home after a successful quest or battle, receiving the praises and adulations of the people?
What had been even more amazing was that Tony had called him the same thing, as they had made their way home. Tony, one of the greatest heroes Midgard has surely ever seen, and even he had thought that Loki was worthy of such an epithet.
And it's odd, because in his mind, that had never been what heroes did. They performed great deeds – they killed enemies by the dozens, they valiantly defended their realm from its foes, they emerged from the field of battle covered in blood and glory. They never did… small things like saving the life of a little child.
Though, perhaps they are not so small after all, not when they result in a stranger's arms around him and the wetness of tears against his cheek.
The mortals have such a different concept of what it means to be a hero. But, he realizes, he likes theirs better. It even allows someone like him to be one. Anyone, really, no matter how weak and small they might be. The idea is peculiar and foreign, but appealing nonetheless.
And he knows that he has a lot to make up for. So many people in this realm died because of his misguided quest for glory and power, fuelled by his petty jealousy and desire to prove himself. Innocent people, who had done no more wrong than being at the wrong place at the wrong time. There are no words to express how much he regrets those actions. If there was any way to undo all the suffering he has caused, he would do it in a heartbeat. But, of course, there is nothing anyone can do to change the past. What is done is done.
Or as someone once told him – nothing can ever be done for the dead, only for the still living.
And that's when he makes up his mind. There is a long way for him to go before he'll be restored to his full powers and allowed to enter Asgard again, and once more considered worthy to bear the name Odinsson; the conditions and restrictions outlined in the parchment from Odin had been long and extensive. But most importantly, he needs to make amends for what he's done. However, that prospect doesn't daunt him in the slightest; there are still so many things he can do, so that the next time he returns to Asgard, he can finally be a hero in his own right. Not from war or conquest or the like, but from other things. Things that actually matter.
After all, he got another chance, and from Midgard no less. It is only fair that he should give the same thing to its people in return.
When he walks into the living room, he spots Loki sitting by the window, apparently deep in thought. So deep that he doesn't even turn around when Tony enters, as if he hasn't actually heard him.
He comes to a halt in the middle of the room and regards the god, whose eyes remain glued to the view outside.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he says, watching Loki startle at the sound of his voice. So he really hadn't heard Tony enter, after all.
Loki turns, slowly, but remains silent for a while before answering. "I was just thinking about… things," he eventually replies, sounding as if his thoughts are still somewhere else.
Well, that's enlightening.
But before Tony has the chance to ask any further, Loki continues by his own volition.
"Mostly about all the human lives that were lost due to my actions. And how I can make amends for the damage I've done, once these two years are over," he says, voice a few notes more decisive than before.
Tony raises an eyebrow. Though it's clear that Loki is harbouring regret for his world domination spiel and its consequences, it's not a topic that has really been brought up for discussion like this. And he's never prodded Loki about it either, because after his own stint as the Merchant of Death, he knows that everyone needs some time to try to come to terms with things for themselves before talking about them with other people.
"Well, you can continue working with me in my lab," he offers. "With your assistance, I'm sure we could advance the frontiers of science at least a few decades, thereby helping-"
"No," Loki interrupts him. "That's not what I had in mind."
Alright then. Tony waits patiently as Loki picks distractedly at one of the chainlets around his wrists.
"I was thinking, there are many diseases and ailments here on Midgard, some of which are incurable," he eventually says. "And I know there's really no way to make up for what I did, but… I could help with that, at least. Even if my healing abilities were never the strongest part of my magic, I can learn and get better. I could still do something." A short pause. "I could… help the people of this city."
Well, Tony has to admit that he never really did see that coming. He pulls out a chair and sits down next to Loki.
"You mean, like magically heal them?" Somehow, when framed like this, it seems like such an obvious idea that he's surprised that he, super-genius and all, didn't even think about that possibility.
"Yes," Loki replies. "You think that would be doable?"
"It's an awesome idea. Though, it might complicate things a little that some unenlightened souls might not take all that well to instant magical healing and that sort of stuff." He gives Loki a scrutinizing look. "You got any plans for how you would practically go about doing it? I mean, I don't think it would be great if people were to recognize you, after everything."
Loki cocks his head to the side. "With my magic back, or at least some of it, I can use glamour to make myself look different, just like how my frost giant appearance is currently shielded from view. No one would recognize me if I didn't want them to. Also, the effects of healing spells can be delayed and slowed down, so I could make it appear like a natural healing process if I want to. I just need to spend enough time in the proximity of a sick or injured person, and I could weave the spells necessary. They wouldn't even notice me doing anything, if I were to postpone the onset of the spell." He makes a short pause before continuing. "So… could I trust in your help and support for something like that? To make that happen, to help me make amends? I do realize my familiarity with your Midgardian ways and society are quite limited, so I would have to rely on someone of this realm to make things work out."
His help and support.
And suddenly, his brain is teeming with ideas, some more ridiculous than others. A little hacking, and Loki could have a doctor's degree from any university of his choice and be set up with a private practice. Or Tony could offer the nearest hospital to fund a new radiation wing, on the condition that they hire his newly immigrated friend as a janitor, providing Loki with access to as many sick and injured people as he could possibly handle. Or maybe the two of them could travel the country as a couple of new age healers complete with funny hats and silly capes and… He snickers at the mental image. Actually, that might really be kinda fun.
Then he notices the little crinkle between Loki's eyebrows, the god obviously having no idea what he's finding so funny.
"Sorry, Loki," he says, still grinning. "Just a silly mental image I got. But of course, I'll support you. Not sure yet exactly how we're gonna do this, but we'll work something out. We still have a couple of years to think up a plan of action, don't we?" He reaches out a hand and pats Loki on the shoulder, enjoying the pleased look on the god's face.
"Thank you, Tony," Loki says in response, eyes glittering.
And really, he's happy that Loki has found his own way to make amends. Tony, on his hand, was able to use his technological expertise to become Iron Man after realizing what damage his own weapons had been causing, so it seems fitting that Loki would similarly be able to use his magic – his heart and soul – in the service of Good.
So he tells Loki that. And the already pleased look on the god's face turns even more so at Tony's obvious approval.
They talk for a while, him about how he had mainly used his technology and smarts to make money and a name for himself before turning his life around, Loki about how he had mainly used his magic for deceit and mischief and trickery.
Then, much later, as their words are starting to run out, Loki reaches out a hand and puts his palm right on top of Tony's arc reactor, spreading his fingers. "You know, once I get my magic back, I can fix this too," he says. "Remove the pieces of metal from your chest and have it heal up again, so you won't need the arc reactor anymore."
Tony feels his eyes go wide. "You could do that?" he asks breathlessly, feeling something inside of him flitter, like a whole swarm of dizzy butterflies suddenly let loose. He never expected that anyone could ever do… well, that.
Loki nods. "I could. If you want to, that is. I'm afraid it might not be an entirely pleasant procedure, but-"
His words are cut off as Tony's lips suddenly look onto Loki's with full force.
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