You are not a Monster

by soeinzufall

After the Battle of New York, Loki, the God of Mischief, is no longer the man he once was. Freed from the mind control that drove him to wage war against the Avengers, he must face a new reality—and rely on the support of his former enemies. But it is especially Tony Stark, the brilliant and stubborn man behind the Iron Man mask, who captivates Loki.

You are not a monster

Chapter 1 – Battle for New York 2.0

The portal crackled and glowed far too brightly. Loki could feel how Thyra was losing control over it. It was generating too much energy—far more than she could contain. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to realize it herself, as she kept pushing forward.

Meanwhile, the battle around him raged on with increasing ferocity. The Avengers were giving it their all, but the beasts Thyra had allied herself with were a nearly unstoppable force.

Loki forced himself to his feet. He couldn't let this happen. If that madwoman continued unchecked, it would mean the end of Midgard. The world would be torn apart, wiped from existence as if it had never been. And the power of the portal wouldn't stop at Earth—it would ripple across the Nine Realms, leaving only emptiness in its wake.

"Captain, status?" he shouted into his communicator, steadying himself. Blood dripped from multiple wounds, and his armor was more damaged than he cared to admit.

"We see you. Less than a minute out. Hold on!"

Loki exhaled sharply. He hadn't even realized he was holding his breath. "Hurry. We can't hold out much longer. Banner better be angry enough by now..."

"You can count on that," came Banner's growl over the comms. "The big guy can't wait."

Loki scanned the battlefield. His brother was fighting barely ten meters away, facing off against three of the monstrous creatures at once. Lightning crackled around the God of Thunder, and with Mjölnir in hand, he struck down one enemy after another. It was unsettling to see Thor's usually gentle blue eyes darken with fury as he tore through the Majutas.

Majutas—a true spawn of hell. A bloodthirsty race from the darkest corners of the universe. If someone (or, in this case, a woman) needed mercenaries to wage war on an entire planet and was reckless enough to summon them, they would call upon the Majutas. These reptilian beasts stood over two meters tall, with far too many claws and teeth for Loki's liking. They communicated in guttural hisses, their gray-green scaled bodies twitching unpredictably, making them difficult opponents. Their only real weak spot was at the back of the neck, which meant one had to either be a damn good shot or—like Loki—get dangerously close to their razor-sharp teeth.

Loki tore his gaze away from his brother and turned to the agents Romanoff and Barton. Hawkeye had taken an excellent vantage point above the battlefield, bringing down one Majuta after another with pinpoint precision. Natasha was bleeding from multiple wounds but still stood strong, maneuvering the creatures into Barton's line of fire. Loki only worried about what would happen if the archer ran out of arrows.

But his eyes didn't linger on them. Instead, he searched the skies for a flash of red and gold. And there it was—Iron Man hovered above the battlefield, firing relentlessly at the invaders. His bold companion appeared unharmed; at least, Loki could see no visible damage to the Iron Man suit.

Tony, along with Rhodey, had taken on the task of keeping the Majutas from setting foot on Earth. Now, he circled the massive spaceship that had appeared over New York an hour ago, shooting down every enemy attempting to breach the Avengers' defense line.

A defense line that only held this well because Loki had insisted on it. If it had been up to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s director, they would have been led to slaughter like cattle. All because Fury refused to believe Loki when it came to the Majutas. Well, to be fair, he refused to trust Loki at all. To him, the trickster would always be an enemy, never an ally—and certainly never a friend. That wouldn't change in a thousand years.

At least, with Tony and Thor's help, Loki had convinced Fury that facing the Majutas on the ground would be a disaster. He had insisted on storming the ship as soon as it appeared and setting up a defensive perimeter to handle any stragglers and the fallen. More than anything, he had stressed that under no circumstances should these monsters be allowed to touch Midgard. If they did, the battle would become exponentially harder.

These lizards were cunning, ruthless killers, skilled in ambush and open combat alike. They took no prisoners, cutting down everything in their path. Well—almost everything. Sometimes, they did take prisoners...

Loki shook his head, forcing himself away from that thought. Now was not the time for memories.

He pivoted gracefully, narrowly dodging a Majuta's furious swipe. The beast hissed and struck again. Loki ducked beneath its claws, his daggers flashing. With precision, he drove both blades into the creature's neck. It collapsed at his feet, but not before its final convulsions sent its claws raking across his side. He clenched his jaw against the pain. Damn it—at this rate, he'd soon be nothing more than a bleeding wreck.

He was a god, and his magic healed wounds efficiently, but he couldn't afford to waste power on himself. He had been fighting non-stop for nearly an hour, and he needed every ounce of energy for what came next.

How many mercenaries had Thyra hired? Judging by the size of the ship, there could be anywhere between one to three thousand Majutas. And how many had they taken down so far? Not nearly enough...

This had to end now. But he needed reinforcements. He couldn't fight and open a portal at the same time.

"Captain!"

"We're here, Loki! Hulk's already dropping in, and I'm right behind him with the warriors of Wakanda."

About damn time. Thank the gods.

"Good. We can't win this fight—there are too many of them. I have to open a portal," Loki said into the comms.

"I'll cover you."

That sentence came from the two people who mattered most to him—Thor and Tony.

Of course. How many battles had he fought alongside his brother? Thor knew exactly when to shield Loki so he could wield his magic. And Tony... well, Tony was just stubborn. Loki had told him to focus on his task, but of course, he didn't listen. Then again, Loki admitted, he wouldn't have listened either if their roles were reversed.

Still, he didn't want Tony anywhere near him when the riskiest part of the plan unfolded.

"Tony, we discussed this. Stay where you are! Thor is enough to cover me," Loki snapped, slashing his dagger into another Majuta.

"Yeah, well, babe—too late."

With a heavy thud, Iron Man landed in front of him, the visor sliding up to reveal a breathtaking grin. Before Loki could react, Tony pulled him into a deep kiss.

The chaos around them faded, and for a brief moment, time stood still. Loki melted into the touch, the battle, the pain, the worry—all of it dissolving. He was dizzy with it, overwhelmed, just like every time his mortal kissed him.

And then, as quickly as it had come, it was over. The visor snapped back into place, and Iron Man was in a defensive stance. Loki blinked, struggling to refocus.

Electricity crackled in the air, and Thor stepped up beside him. "Brother, how soon can you open that portal and send these creatures to hell? And what in the gods' name is Thyra doing with her own portal? That energy—it's unnatural, isn't it?"

Loki glanced at the glowing red vortex in the distance. "No, it's definitely not normal. I think she's lost control. I need to shut it down before she rips this world apart. But first—we deal with the Majutas."

Did he have enough strength for both? He had deliberately refrained from using his magic to heal himself, saving it for this moment. He had to move fast. In the distance, Thyra's crackling portal grew larger.

He couldn't waste another second.

"Everyone, I'm opening the portal now! Hold the line just a little longer. On my signal, pull back and get to safety. Stick to the plan—I want no casualties!"

He waited for confirmation. When the reassuring "Roger" echoed through his comms, he got to work.

Two Weeks Earlier

They had been sitting at this damned table in the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters for hours. It wasn't just the Director and the assassins, Romanoff and Barton, who were present. Captain America—Steve Rogers—and a handful of high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were also gathered around the round table.

Loki ran a hand over his face. He was exhausted, yes, but more than anything, he was frustrated and furious with S.H.I.E.L.D. No one here ever believed him, no one ever trusted him. He didn't even know why he was here in the first place.

A week ago, he and Tony had escaped captivity from the Majutas. A week ago, believing him half-dead and unconscious, they had openly discussed their plan to subjugate the Nine Realms, starting with Midgard. A week ago, he had lain on the cold floor of a spaceship, bleeding and broken, forced to listen as the Majutas hissed and jeered at his suffering. He had endured Thyras' assault—Thyra, who had bound him in chains, tortured him for information about the Nine: their defenses, their armies, their weaknesses.

Loki might be selfish—or at least, he might appear that way because he avoided unnecessary risks—but he cared about the Nine. All his life, he had defended these realms alongside his brother, and he would not stop now. He was a prince of Asgard; he would not stand by while these vile creatures laid waste to his home.

But, of course, no one seemed willing to believe him.

God of Lies and Mischief. Silver Tongue. Traitor. His many titles hardly worked in his favor, and the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents seated around the table—Director Fury in particular—were unwilling to believe a single word he said. They probably thought this was all some elaborate trick. But to what end? What, exactly, was he supposed to gain from this? Why would he beg them to prepare a defense if there was no threat?

"I don't believe you, Loki. I don't trust you. I have no evidence, only your word," Fury said for what felt like the ninth time.

Loki clenched his teeth.

"And why would I lie to you? What would I gain? The Earth is in danger, and we need a plan to stop these creatures before they sink their claws into this world. If Midgard falls, the Nine Realms will fall, one after another! Why can't you understand that? Is it really so difficult to believe that I care about my home and the Nine?"

His voice had risen. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and continued in a steadier tone:

"What do you need from me, Fury? Let's not say trust—just tell me what it will take for you to believe that I am telling the truth?"

The Director considered this for a moment, fixing Loki with his one good eye.

"You claim you overheard this invasion plan while the Majutas thought you were unconscious from torture. How do you know they weren't letting you hear it on purpose? That they didn't know you were still conscious?"

Loki exhaled sharply, about to answer, but was interrupted by a commotion outside the room.

A moment later, the door burst open with a loud bang, and Anthony Stark entered, flanked by Thor.

Loki shot up from his chair and moved quickly to Tony's side. The man was still weak; he should have been resting in bed. Loki had left him there only a few hours ago, under the care of his brother. But apparently, the two had decided to support him in his—so far hopeless—attempt to convince S.H.I.E.L.D. of the impending invasion.

"Anthony, what are you doing here? You should be—" Loki started, but Tony cut him off, his voice sharp.

"Fury, he's telling the truth. You need to listen to him. We don't have time for your paranoid, distrustful bullshit! I was there. I saw those damn things."

Tony met Fury's steely gaze without flinching, despite the fact that he had to lean heavily on Loki for support. Loki could see the restrained fury in Tony's eyes, all of it directed at the one-eyed man. Tony had warned him that Fury wouldn't believe him. Yet Loki had insisted on coming alone, on trying.

Tony was still drained from their days in captivity, both physically and mentally. Thor had been tasked with keeping the mortal out of this, to ensure he didn't push himself beyond his limits.

His brother gave him an apologetic look before turning to Fury.

"I do not doubt my brother's sincerity, Director," Thor said gravely. "When it comes to the defense of the Nine, we have always fought side by side on the front lines. There would be no reason to deceive you, not when the safety of our homeworlds is at stake."

"Dammit, Fury, you bastard!" Tony snapped. "Loki was tortured, brutalized, because they wanted military intelligence on the Nine Realms. When he still refused to talk, they left him for dead—and me with him. In case it's escaped your notice, I was there. I heard what that lunatic said to him! So if you won't believe him, then believe me, for fuck's sake!"

The room fell into stunned silence.

"What?!" Tony demanded angrily. "What more do you want? You wanna see the scars? Count the broken bones? He's telling the truth!"

He turned to Steve, wordlessly urging his friend to back him up.

Steve cleared his throat.

"With all due respect, Director, I think it's time we started treating Loki as an ally. I consider him a friend. He's been supporting the Avengers for over a year now, and I've never had reason to doubt his sincerity. Quite the opposite—he's had our backs more than once. If both he and Tony say an invasion is coming, then I believe them. And I think it's time we started preparing a defense."

"Hmm…" Fury was still thinking it over. Finally, he nodded. "Alright. Since you put it that way, Captain…"

Loki felt the weight of relief settle in his chest. Finally, Fury was listening.

"But," the Director added in a low, warning growl, "if this is some kind of trick—if I have even the slightest doubt about your motives—there's a cell waiting for you." His one eye bore into Loki with an unspoken threat.

Loki gave a curt nod. He had expected nothing less from Fury.

What mattered was that they could finally begin planning their defense—and their counterattack.

Another hour had passed, and they were still in that room. Loki felt as if the walls were closing in on him. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to focus on Steve, who was in the middle of asking a question.

"If we assume the final showdown takes place on a spaceship, and you plan to suck that ship—along with all those abominations—through a portal to the other end of the universe, how do we make sure everyone on our team gets out in time?"

Tony answered for him. "I've already thought about that, Cap." He was sitting right next to Loki, looking exhausted, but his mind was running at full speed—that was nothing new for the brilliant inventor.

He turned to Loki directly. "Remember when we talked about whether there's a way to beam non-magical people?"

"I still wouldn't use that particular term, but yes, I remember," Loki replied with a frown.

Star Trek. Yet another one of those references Anthony liked to throw in just to tease him, knowing full well that Loki didn't always grasp their meaning.

"Beam me up, Scotty" had been the very first thing Tony had said to him when Loki had teleported them for the first time. That was also how the ripcord had been born—it had been Tony's idea, or at least, he had inspired it.

"I've been thinking," Loki continued, "and I'm fairly certain I can enchant an object that would allow for a one-time teleportation to a specific location."

"How exactly would that work?" Natasha Romanoff sounded skeptical.

"Magic," he replied simply. "I would imbue an object—say, a bracelet—with a spell. Once broken, the spell would activate, instantly transporting the wearer back to the designated location."

Tony added, "Think of it like a ripcord, okay? When the time comes, we can extract multiple people independently, without needing to rely on a single exit strategy." He grinned at Loki and gave his hand a quick squeeze under the table. Loki returned the gesture.

"We'd need to test it first, obviously. But if it works, it could be the perfect solution," Fury interjected.

"Wow, did you just agree to something, Fur? Didn't think you had it in you." Tony smirked at the director.

Fury ignored him and continued, "Alright. We're all exhausted. We have the basic plan in place. The next meeting is scheduled for tomorrow at 3 PM. That gives us enough time to mobilize all available forces and brief the rest of the team. We'll refine the plan and assign responsibilities then. In the meantime, our aerial defense will monitor the skies for any unusual activity. If those bastards make a move, we need to know as soon as possible. They don't expect us to be prepared—let's use that to our advantage. Now, get some rest. I want everyone back here tomorrow."

With that, the meeting was dismissed.

"Anthony..." Loki turned to his companion, about to scold him. But when he saw how exhausted his lover looked, he reconsidered.

"We need to get you home as soon as possible. You need rest. I'll help you sleep," he said gently.

"Oh yeah?" Tony arched a playful eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "And what if I don't plan on sleeping?"

Loki rolled his eyes. His mortal was impossible.

"But seriously, babe," Tony continued before Loki could retort. "How do you plan on making these 'ripcords'? You're already pushing yourself too hard—healing me, healing yourself, after Thyra drained almost all of your magic. And now you want to do this too? Where are you going to get the energy? I know you're a god, babe, but isn't this a bit much?"

Loki saw genuine concern in Tony's eyes. Concern for him.

That was... unusual. True, his mother had worried about him. And, to be fair, so had Thor. Loki had come to accept that his brother's care for him had always been genuine.

He leaned in, running a hand through Tony's short brown hair before resting it against his cheek. "Don't worry. I have enough magic left. Besides, I still have one of Idunn's golden apples. That should speed up my recovery significantly, my love."

With that, he pulled Tony closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Tony hummed in approval. "Hmm... okay, babe. Then get me home."

Chapter 2 / How It Began

1 Year Earlier / Stark Tower / Attack on New York

What was he doing here?!

Everything was slipping through his fingers. He was fighting Thor—he didn't want to fight Thor. He was furious—he didn't want to be furious.

NO!

Loki had been angry for long enough, had let that rage become the gateway to his mind. Thanos, the Titan, had manipulated and broken him. He didn't want to think about how Thanos had done it. Pain. Darkness.

NO!

"Brother, look around you!" Thor stood before him, grappling with him. NO! Loki could see him, knew his body was there, but his mind was trapped. Trapped by the cursed scepter he held in his hands.

Thor had to see it—had to recognize that this wasn't really him, that this madman wasn't his brother. Loki fought against the invisible chains binding him, desperate to tell Thor what was happening. NO!

And then—finally—a moment of clarity.

"It's too late..." Loki whispered.

"No, it's not too late, Loki. Together, we can stop this."

Thor's eyes lit up with hope. And then, he saw it—the brief plea in his brother's gaze, the way Loki's icy blue eyes flickered back to their familiar, green. It lasted only a second, but it was enough. Enough for Thor to realize that Loki wasn't himself. Relief surged through him.

And then—blackness.

Mjölnir struck him at the side of the head.

Very clever, Thor...

When he regained consciousness, he found himself handcuffed to the bar counter in Stark Tower. The man who had offered him a drink not long ago stood before him—alongside the rest of the Avengers, he realized as he took in the battle-scarred room.

There was also a man in a long leather coat and an eye patch, his expression dark and unreadable. Every exit was guarded by security personnel in black suits.

Two deep craters in the expensive marble floor marked the spots where he had—briefly and painfully—collided with the Hulk. Why those blows hadn't been enough to break the spell, why it had taken his brother and Mjölnir instead… well, it didn't matter now.

Loki swallowed. "If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to accept that drink now."

Had there been the faintest hint of a smirk on Iron Man's face before he turned away and poured a generous measure of bourbon into two glasses? He must have imagined it. One of the glasses was placed in front of him.

"Sorry, but we're fresh out of single malt."

Loki flashed the man in armor a mischievous grin. "This will do just fine, I think."

Damn it, Iron Man actually grinned back. Loki took a long sip of the golden liquid, savoring the slow burn spreading through his limbs. He hadn't felt truly warm in months.

Thor leaned in, his large hand cupping Loki's head in that familiar, grounding gesture, his thumb resting against his cheekbone.

"Brother, tell me, is it truly you? Look at me."

Loki met his gaze, unwavering. "It's me, brother."

"Loki, what happened?" Thor's face was etched with worry. "Do you understand what you've done?"

"I'm sorry, Thor. All of you. I... I was powerless against the Titan. I couldn't stop it."

What was he doing? Apologizing? It didn't matter anymore. Nothing did. They could do with him as they pleased.

His mind was battered from the torment he had endured, his body broken and bleeding from multiple wounds. He could feel the dampness seeping beneath his armor. His magic was failing. It had to be connected to the mind control. His vision blurred, Thor's face shifting in and out of focus.

"If you don't believe me, ask the Hawk," he murmured.

Loki lowered his gaze; he couldn't bear to see the disappointment in Thor's eyes. He had failed. Again. As he always did. He was so tired.

Hawkeye—Clint Barton—shifted uneasily in his seat. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you trying to tell me your mind was controlled?"

"Loki of Asgard," the one-eyed man spoke, his voice firm and commanding. "My name is Nick Fury. I'm the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.—Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. We're a U.S. intelligence agency, and it's our job to keep this planet safe. Especially from threats of the... 'extraterrestrial' kind. So I suggest you start talking—tell us everything from the beginning—unless you'd prefer to spend the rest of your days in a high-security cell."

This man wasn't bluffing, Loki realized. He would lock him away and throw away the key if he didn't provide the answers they wanted. In his current state, there was little he could do to resist.

Loki nodded, squared his shoulders. All eyes were on him. They wanted his story? Fine. He had always been good at telling stories. So he started at the beginning. When Thor shattered the Bifrost. When he hung over the abyss and, well...

"...so I let go."

He heard Thor swallow hard beside him and took another sip of his bourbon.

"I fell through darkness. I don't know for how long. I hadn't intended to survive the fall, to be honest. I'm sorry, Thor, but at the time, I thought the best thing for everyone would be for me to remove myself from the cosmic equation."

He said it flatly, without emotion, and was startled when his brother grabbed his bound hands and squeezed—painfully.

"How could you even think such a thing, brother?" Thor asked, shocked.

"Well, I'm not your brother. Surely the Allfather has informed you of that by now. I am a Frost Giant—the monster from the bedtime stories of our realm, whose birthright is nothing but death. I was never your equal. To this day, I don't know why Odin took me from that battlefield." Loki swallowed hard. "So I let go and fell. But to my great misfortune, I eventually landed—rather painfully—on a small planet at the edge of the solar system. It was a Chitauri colony. And, as luck would have it, they had a most distinguished guest."

He recounted how the Chitauri had captured him and how Thanos had claimed him as tribute. At first, the Titan had treated him well—like the prince he was. But soon enough, his true intentions became clear. He wanted to "cleanse" the universe, and Loki was to be his puppet for the Nine Realms.

"...to save himself some effort." Loki let out a mirthless laugh, his glass now empty, his voice rough. He was so incredibly tired.

"And you just went along with it?!" The red-haired woman's skepticism was palpable.

Loki glared at her. "Of course not," he hissed. "I spent my life defending the Nine Realms. I had no desire to aid the Titan in his plans."

"Then why did you do it?" Clint's voice was sharp, unyielding. "Why bring this catastrophe upon Earth? If Tony hadn't flown that nuke through the portal and risked his life, it would've been even worse. The Chitauri might have won. Thanos' plan might have succeeded."

Loki's voice trembled slightly as he answered, "He... he has a way of being persuasive."

"That's all you've got?!" Clint was seething now. "You—"

"Torture, Barton," Tony interrupted, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Now shut up and let the man speak."

Loki glanced at the man across from him, who wordlessly refilled his glass and clinked it against Loki's own.

"Cheers. Welcome to the shittiest club in the world," Tony muttered. "I know the signs when I see them."

"Brother?"

"Yes, Thor," Loki murmured, staring down at his drink. "The Titan stops at nothing to achieve his goals. They tortured me. Until I broke. Until I gave them what they wanted—a vessel for his will." He looked up, locking eyes with Stark. "I'm sorry, Stark. I didn't mean to throw you out that window. I had no control over my body. I could only watch from the sidelines."

"Ah, well, no hard feelings, I guess," Tony waved it off. "I'm still alive, after all."

Silence settled over the ruined room, heavy and suffocating.

What else was there to say?

He only prayed no one would ask the unspoken questions lingering in the air. How long? What did they do to you? No. He wouldn't answer. They had no right.

He was so tired.

Then, suddenly—

"You know, I have to say—green eyes suit you a thousand times better than that creepy blue," Stark remarked into the tense silence, breaking the spell.

Loki shot the mortal a fleeting smile.

All eyes turned briefly to Stark, then shifted to Nick Fury. Loki sat motionless, his expression unreadable as he met the director's gaze.

Now came the verdict.

Chapter 3 / Soooo Tired

"Probation and support of the Avengers"—such was the verdict of the S.H.I.E.L.D. director, spoken with so much distrust that Loki wondered how long it would take for him to change his mind and throw him into that threatened cell.

Loki remained motionless in his chair, still bound. No one had yet removed his restraints. He watched his brother, who was speaking with the one-eyed man at the other end of the room.

"I will, of course, keep an eye on my brother, Director," he heard Thor say. "But first, I must return briefly to Asgard and report the events to my father. I will return to Midgard as soon as possible."

Fury nodded and asked Thor to extend his best wishes to the Allfather before departing with his delegation of suited officials.

As Thor turned back to the now emptier room, his expression serious, he fixed his gaze on Iron Man, forced a small smile, and asked,

"Friend Stark, do you have a spare room in your tower for my brother?"

"A room in my tower? What am I, the Wizard of Oz?" Tony laughed. "Yeah, I think I've got a room to spare. Uh, who's got the keys to these cuffs? Can't have him sitting here all night."

The red-haired woman—Natasha, he believed—stood up, letting a small key slip into her palm. As she unlocked his restraints, she scrutinized him closely. Loki met her gaze; he knew she was searching for betrayal.

I mean you no harm, he thought. And when the cuffs finally clicked open, he thought he caught a slight nod from the assassin.

He was so tired.

Standing proved to be more painful than expected. He swayed slightly, struggling to suppress his weakness.
Thor stepped up beside him, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. Damn it, brother!

He nearly lost his balance. Thor seemed to sense it and instead gripped his forearm, giving him something to brace against. Loki was grateful for the simple gesture and hoped no one had noticed.

No one seemed to. The Avengers had begun to scatter, tending to their wounds. None appeared gravely injured.

Thor leaned in and whispered, "Brother, expect me back tomorrow. Try to rest in the meantime—you look dreadful. I will try to bring you Idunn's remedy, yes?"

Thor knew of Loki's pride and refrained from confronting him about his obvious weakness in front of the others. He could have insisted on carrying me to my room, Loki thought and let out a quiet chuckle. Apparently, his brother had grown in his absence. He wouldn't have expected it. And, evidently, Thor truly cared about him. Asking for Idunn's apples was no small favor. Loki was curious whether Odin would grant his eldest son such a request.

"Thank you... Brother," he said, offering Thor a faint smile.

"Uh, Thor, Loki? Whenever you're ready..."

He hadn't even noticed Stark standing nearby until he spoke. By the gods, he was so tired.

With some difficulty, Loki pulled away from Thor and focused on the mortal. Stark led him up a winding staircase and into a spacious room at the end of the hall.

"Here you go. If you need anything, my room's right across the hall. Or just ask J.A.R.V.I.S. J.A.R.V.I.S., if Loki needs anything, be a good AI and tell him where to find it, yeah?"

"Of course, sir," replied the AI's pleasantly melodic voice.

Loki was too exhausted to be unnerved by it. His mind was in a fragile state, his body riddled with injuries. It felt as if he were dissolving—nothing but stardust, particles drifting through time and space. Detached from his body. Untethered from his senses. Numb. Insignificant.

NO!

A tingling spread through his fingers, and he stumbled over his own feet. He would have fallen had Stark not caught him at the last second.

NO! I am not weak!

How dare he?! But he couldn't stand on his own. He had no choice but to let the mortal guide him onto the bed.

When Stark pulled his hands away, they were stained red.

Oh. That was... quite a lot of blood. Even for a god.

Loki was so tired.

He lifted his hands before his face, staring at his palms. He tried to summon his magic—nothing happened. That's not good. Something was wrong. He was bleeding out. He had been bleeding out all this time, all this time... How long had he been talking? How long had the director taken to pass judgment?

Through a bright haze, he saw the mortal disappear into the next room, returning with cloth and bandages. Heard him speaking hurriedly to the AI. Then, footsteps rushed down the hall.

The Hulk—no, Dr. Banner—entered the room at a run.

Loki was so tired...

Tony tried to stay calm, but holy shit, this god was bleeding out on his guest bed.

How had no one noticed? Was that even possible? Shouldn't he be able to heal himself? Thor did, at least. He had assumed Asgardians had some sort of Superman-tier regeneration.

It had been bad enough when Loki had practically collapsed into his arms. But when he saw all that blood on his hands, he'd started to panic.

"Bruce, hurry the hell up!" he yelled down the hallway, but the doc was already at his side.

"What the hell...?" Bruce muttered. "Help me get a look at the wound, Tony. I need to see where all this blood is coming from."

Together, they began removing Loki's armor.

If only Thor were still here—but the thunder god had made a dramatic exit off Stark Tower's platform ten minutes ago. Tony's hands found the last buckle, pulling the heavy leather piece from Loki's shoulders. Bruce peeled the undershirt away. It hit the floor with a sickeningly wet slap.

Tony didn't even want to think about how much blood had been lost. How much blood could an Asgardian prince afford to lose?

What would Thor say if he came back tomorrow to find his little brother dead?

He glanced at Bruce and knew they were thinking the same thing. SHIT!

"Okay, I can see the wound. Looks like... damn, what is that?" Bruce stared at the seemingly small injury on Loki's side.

It didn't look that bad, but for some reason, it wouldn't stop bleeding. A steady stream of red spread across the god's left side.

"Fuck, Bruce, what is that? Is this a goddamn crucifixion?! What's in the wound?"

Tony didn't know much about medicine, but he was pretty sure a glow stick didn't belong lodged in a god's chest.

It was small, glowing green, and looked almost toxic. Where the hell had that come from? The Chitauri hadn't used anything like it—at least, not that he had seen.

"We need to get it out. It might be preventing him from healing," Bruce said.

"So, he should be healing? Like Thor?" Tony was already scrambling for tweezers or pliers.

"Yes, from what I gathered from Thor's stories... Give me that, Tony, this should work." Bruce took the fine-tipped pliers from Tony's grip and turned to Loki.

"Loki, Loki, can you hear me? There's a foreign object in your side—it may be stopping your healing. We're going to remove it. Try to stay still, alright?"

Tony helped ease Loki back onto the bed. He felt him tremble but doubted he was even aware of his surroundings anymore. His eyes were unfocused, pupils dilating erratically.

"Hurry, Bruce—I think he's crashing."

Bruce carefully gripped the end of the object and, when nothing unusual happened, began to pull.

Loki groaned in pain. Tony instinctively grabbed his hand, gripping it tightly.

"It's moving! Almost there! Tony, hold him steady!"

Beads of sweat dotted Bruce's forehead.

Tony watched as inch by inch, the glowing thing was extracted. FUCK. How long was this thing?!

Finally, the tip emerged—a nasty, barbed end.

Tony let go of Loki's hand, pressing a sterile cloth to the bleeding wound.

Loki inhaled sharply. Still conscious. Damn. If it were him, he'd gladly pass out. He must have been in excruciating pain.

"Bruce..."

"I'm here, Tony. Take your hands off and let me see."

Bruce disinfected the wound and, with a sigh of relief, noticed that the bleeding had almost stopped. He leaned back with a soft chuckle.

"Thank God. Apparently, it really was that thing in his side that was hindering his healing. Look, the wound is almost closed by itself," he said, clearly relieved.

"Doc, we have to analyze this thing. Tomorrow. I need some rest first," Tony exhaled, finally releasing the breath he'd been holding since the doctor first applied the clamp.

He'd been shot at today, fallen from a window on the 50th floor, flown an atomic missile into some damn alien portal, nearly died, and now there was all this hocus-pocus nonsense. It was a bit too much all at once, even for Iron Man.

It was a near certainty that today's events would make it into the top three of his worst nightmares. Wonderful. He let his hand fall onto Loki's shoulder, not just to signal the god had made it through, but also to hold on to something for himself.

"You made it, Loki. But next time, just give me a heads-up before you collapse," he said lightly.

A surprisingly strong hand rested on his upper arm and gave it a brief squeeze. "Thank you," the god murmured, closing his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them, he took the hands extended toward him and allowed Tony and Bruce to help him up. He still seemed unsteady on his feet but didn't want to accept any further assistance.

As he turned his back to head toward the small bathroom, Bruce sucked in a sharp breath. Tony felt a wave of nausea as he saw what had been done to Loki. The scars on his back, while faded, were still numerous enough to silently tell the story of torture.

Without another word, Loki disappeared into the small bathroom, closing the door behind him. A few moments later, they could hear water running.

Bruce looked at Tony with concern. "Should we...?"

"No," Tony said firmly, his tone sharp enough to make Bruce pause. "We leave him alone, and we don't speak a word of what we just saw. Not to anyone, Bruce. This is nobody's business." His eyes had darkened.

"Tony, if this reminds you of Afghanistan—"

"IT DOESN'T!" Tony cut in, his voice tight. "Please, Bruce, it's fine. But I don't think Loki would thank you if you kept pushing and resurrecting the terror," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Give him time. You saw for yourself, his healing powers are back. The scars will fade." Outwardly, Tony was bitter, but inwardly, it was another story.

He knew his friend was concerned. Everyone was. Yes, he'd been tortured in Afghanistan, forced to build weapons. He'd almost drowned at the hands of clumsy torturers, and still woke up screaming almost every night. But that was something he didn't need to burden anyone with.

"I'm fine," Tony reassured. "Let me just clean up. Could you take the stick down to the lab? I'd really like to know what this thing is."

"Sure, I'll handle it. At first glance, I'd say it's emitting some kind of radiation. But we can investigate it more thoroughly tomorrow," Bruce said, knowing when to drop the subject with Tony. He packed up his medical bag and the "Stick of Doom" and headed for the Stark Tower lab. "Good night, Tony."

"Night, Doc." Tony was already busy disposing of the bloody sheets and replacing them with fresh ones.

He had just picked up the bloody bundle when the bathroom door opened.

"How are you feeling?" he asked immediately.

The god looked pale, but undeniably stronger than before. A faint green glow seemed to envelop him.

"Thank you, a little better, Stark. That thing seemed to block my magic. Now, I can feel it slowly returning." He met Tony's gaze with calm green eyes.

Tony felt a slight tingling but ignored it. "That's good. Try to get some rest. I've changed your bed, and I'll clean up this," he lifted the bloody bundle, from which drops were still falling to the floor, "for you. If you need anything, you know where to find me. Good night, Loki."

With that, he turned and left the room.

Chapter 4 / Nightmares and Harry Potter

"Thank you," Loki whispered.

He let himself sink onto the fresh bed, burying his face in his hands. Slowly, he ran his fingers through his long, damp black hair.

That magic-blocking shard lodged in his side... deeply unsettling.

He had to find out how such a thing was even possible. Being stripped of his magic was the worst thing that could happen to him—and the most dangerous. Without it, he was defenseless, as had just been proven. A mere scratch, and he bled like a mortal.

But that was a problem for tomorrow.

What he needed now was time—to heal, to rest. Though he doubted he would find any sleep. Speaking of his past had torn open wounds that had barely begun to close. Loki lay back on the surprisingly comfortable bed and shut his eyes.

To his surprise, within moments, he drifted into a restless slumber.

"You will do as I command, or you will suffer. What will it be, oh mighty God of Mischief?" The Titan mocked.

"NO! I will not serve you! NEVER!" he spat.

"As you wish..."

The assault on his mind began anew. It crashed over him like a tidal wave, a force so overwhelming it threatened to wash away everything that made him who he was. Loki fought back, struggling to hold onto himself. And then came the physical pain—red, searing, tearing—

"NOOO!"

Loki jolted awake, his heart pounding violently in his chest. Cold sweat drenched his body. He trembled, the echoes of pain still gripping him.

NO!

His breathing was ragged, shallow. The walls seemed to close in around him. He had to get out. He couldn't stand the suffocating confines of the room a second longer. Stumbling, he got to his feet and staggered down an unfamiliar hallway.

Where was he?!

He had to get out! Please!

Panic clawed at his chest, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pull in enough air. Gasping, he fought for breath. No… please!

"Loki?"

He froze.

His back hit the wall as he clutched at it for support, still struggling to breathe.

That voice…

Reality snapped back into place. He was in Stark Tower. New York. Midgard. The voice belonged to Iron Man—Tony Stark. The man approached him, looking groggy, deep shadows under his eyes.

"Nightmare, huh? Welcome to the club."

Stark yawned and gestured toward the hallway.

"I need some fresh air. You coming?"

Loki's breathing had steadied somewhat. He gave a curt nod.

This mortal always seemed to know what he needed. But why? And why was he helping him?

They reached the end of the hallway, stepping into a spacious lounge furnished with plush sofas, a massive plasma screen, and a well-stocked bar. Floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded them, and Stark walked over to one, pressing a panel to slide it open.

The moment the night air hit Loki's face, he inhaled deeply, greedily.

They stood on a small balcony, high above the city—fifty-five stories up, looking down at the glowing veins of New York. Silence stretched between them, comfortable and unbroken.

Until Loki finally asked, barely above a whisper:

"Why?"

Stark could have ignored it, pretended he hadn't heard. But instead, his response came almost instantly.

"Why what, Loki?"

The mortal leaned against the railing, eyes closed, but now turned to look at him.

"Why are you helping me, Stark?" Loki's voice was quiet, raw. "You have every reason to hate me—like your teammates do. I threw you from this very tower. I tried to take over your world."

His voice dropped lower.

"I killed people."

Stark studied him for a long moment, and under that unwavering gaze, Loki found himself tensing unconsciously. Instinctively, he straightened, squaring his shoulders, masking his unease with practiced poise.

He feared this man's judgment—but he would never let it show.

Then Stark took a slow breath and began counting off on his fingers.

"One: You're our ally now. Two: People say I'm an incorrigible narcissist, but I don't actually enjoy watching others suffer. Three: I don't think the others hate you. Hate is a strong word. Four: You already apologized for the whole 'throwing me off a building' thing, Harry Potter, and I accepted it. Five: You weren't yourself, Loki. You were mind-controlled."

Loki arched a brow.

"And when you run out of fingers, Stark? Do you start counting on your toes?"

A spark of amusement lit the brown eyes.

"Oh, keep it up, Potter," Stark laughed before his expression turned serious again. "As for the dead… What do you actually know about me, Loki, Prince of Asgard?"

Loki frowned, caught off guard by the shift. He had done his research, of course—mind control or not, he had wanted to know what kind of resistance he would face on Midgard.

"Are you referring to 'The Merchant of Death'? Your past as a weapons dealer?" Loki's voice was measured, cautious. He could sense this was delicate ground. "There is a difference between creating weapons and wielding them yourself, don't you think?"

"Yes. No. I think it's just as bad—maybe worse."

Stark exhaled heavily.

"See, at one point, I didn't care who used them. I just wanted them to be better—smaller, more efficient, deadlier. And people loved me for it. Threw money at me. And I didn't even realize what I was doing. I was manufacturing death. Thousands died by my hand. If someone I trusted—someone who was like a father to me—hadn't betrayed and sold me out, I would have kept going."

The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. Loki recognized that pain.

"You were betrayed, Stark?" he asked quietly, turning fully toward the mortal.

Smaller in stature, with tousled brown hair and those sharp, brown eyes that still held remnants of something raw—something vulnerable. He hid it well. Almost perfectly.

But Loki was the God of Lies. And he could see the truths people tried to bury.

He wouldn't expose it. He found he didn't want to. He liked this man.

So instead, he merely tilted his head, waiting.

"Yeah." Stark's voice was rough. "I should've died. Instead, one of my own weapons shredded my chest. That's why I have this."

He tapped the spot over his heart, the sound metallic.

"Keeps the shrapnel from killing me. In case you were wondering whether the glowing blue thing was functional or just an edgy fashion statement."

Loki's gaze flickered to the reactor, glowing beneath the fabric of Stark's shirt. He could feel its energy. But he said nothing.

"After that, they wanted me to build weapons for them." Stark huffed out a dry laugh. "Real original, right? I told them to go to hell. They didn't take it well."

He cast Loki a sidelong glance.

"You know what tyrants are capable of, don't you?"

"Yes, Stark," Loki said simply.

Stark nodded.

"I built a suit. Fought my way out. But the man who saved my life? He didn't make it. Yinsen died in that damn cave." His fists clenched. "That was my wake-up call. I changed after that."

He stared into the night.

"'Don't waste your life,' he told me." Stark shook his head. "So. I got a second chance. Why shouldn't you?"

Loki let that settle, then—unexpectedly—smiled.

"Thank you, Stark. And… thank you for trusting me."

Because that was what this was. Trust. A gift freely given.

And Loki valued it.

Perhaps they weren't so different.

Perhaps, like Stark, he could change too.

"Don't waste your life"—a wise piece of advice, Loki thought.

After speaking with the mortal and breathing in the crisp night air, he felt significantly better. Despite the restless sleep, his magic had managed to heal most of his injuries. He still felt weak, but strangely... lighter. Could it be because someone stood beside him, offering him a chance, despite having seen the worst of him?

A sudden urge stirred within Loki—a desire to give something back. He stepped away from the railing and took a small step toward Stark.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Stark?" he asked.

The inventor's eyebrows shot up. "Wha... what do you mean, Loki?"

"I am not only capable of healing myself. In Asgard, I frequently offered my services as a healer. I... I would like to repay your kindness. If you are in pain or have any injuries, I could help. I could even grant you a dreamless sleep if you wished." Loki waited, slightly tense, for the response.

Stark exhaled sharply before bursting into laughter.

"Oh God, Loki! For a second, I thought you were—"

"What?"

"Well, it kind of sounded like you were offering yourself to me or something."

"HEY—OW!"

Loki had punched him—nothing serious, but hard enough to be painful. How did this mortal even come up with such thoughts? He glared at Stark, who held up his hands in surrender, still chuckling.

"Alright, alright, I apologize. Don't look at me like that," he said, amusement still lacing his voice. "Actually, now that you mention it... My back could use some attention. I, uh, happened to crash through a rather thick glass pane. The bruise must be massive—I can only sleep on my stomach, which, by the way, I absolutely hate." He grinned mischievously.

Unbelievable. And yet, Loki couldn't help but smirk in return.

"Very well. But just so we're clear—physical contact is necessary for the healing process. I wouldn't want you accusing me of inappropriate behavior afterward, Stark."

"Yeah, yeah, they all say that, Potter. But let's go inside, okay? No way am I pulling down my pants out here in the open." Stark winked and headed back toward his room.

Loki shook his head and followed.

Who, by the gods, was this Harry Potter Stark kept talking about?

"Uhh, yeah, that's the spot," Stark gasped.

Loki had located the injuries on Stark's body and gently placed his slender fingers upon them. Closing his eyes, he focused on the flow of his magic, channeling it into the mortal before him.

"Wow, that tingles," Stark squeaked.

A sharp inhale followed as Loki let his hands glide over Stark's body. Perhaps he was making his movements deliberately slow and teasing—just to get a rise out of the infamous playboy. After all, he was the God of Mischief… But it didn't take long; the injury was swiftly healed, and Loki withdrew just as Stark started to squirm under his touch.

"And? How does it feel?" he asked, a devilish grin spreading across his lips.

"Mmpf. Feels great, thanks! But was all that groping really necessary, or do you just enjoy yourself?" Stark grumbled, tugging his T-shirt back down.

"Oh, come now, Princess. If you dish it out, you should be able to take it, no?" Loki quipped dryly.

"Huh?" Stark blinked at him before bursting into laughter. "Yeah, fair point, Harry," he snorted.

"Stark, if I may…" Loki began, raising a hand toward the inventor's face.

The mortal instantly flinched back. "Whoa, what exactly are you doing?" he asked, alarmed.

Loki lowered his hand slightly. "Please, let me help you, Stark. I can tell you haven't truly rested in a long time. I can feel the exhaustion in your body. I'd like to give you a night free of nightmares." He watched the other man carefully.

Stark's arms crossed over his chest, his expression turning wary. "And how would you know I have nightmares?"

Loki arched a brow. Clearly, he had struck a nerve.

"I am not merely a prince, Stark. I have fought in many battles, and in just as many, I have served as a healer. I know the telltale signs of a mind haunted by recurring nightmares. Nearly every soldier suffers from them." He hesitated for a moment, then inclined his head slightly. "But forgive me, I have overstepped. I will leave you be."

With that, Loki rose and turned toward the door. He had nearly reached it when he heard a deep sigh behind him.

"Hmpf… uh, wait..."

Loki glanced over his shoulder, curious. Had the mortal changed his mind?

"Uh… how exactly… I mean, what exactly would you do to me?" Stark mumbled. Then, realizing how that sounded, he groaned. "UGH, okay, I just heard it myself. Stop grinning like that, you bastard!"

Loki had lifted an eyebrow and was now grinning like a cat who had just caught a canary. Stark, now visibly flustered, grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. Loki caught it mid-air with effortless grace.

"Oh, my dear, you'd love to know, wouldn't you?" he teased.

The mortal crossed his arms again, brown eyes glaring daggers at him. Clearly, he wasn't used to being thrown off balance like this. Loki briefly considered letting him stew a bit longer—but truthfully, he was tired, and he had genuinely wanted to help.

"I simply need to touch your temple, Stark," he finally explained. "It's a minor enchantment that will allow you to sleep peacefully until morning. No nightmares. Battle-tested and perfected, as I mentioned before."

Stark hesitated, his mind clearly racing behind those sharp brown eyes. Could he trust him? Eventually, he exhaled and gave a small nod. "Alright. Can't be worse than what I've already got."

Loki stepped back to the edge of the large bed.

"Get comfortable, Stark. It won't take long before you drift off."

He sat on the edge of the mattress, raising his hand once more. Just before touching him, he sought silent permission. Green eyes met brown. Then, at last, gentle fingertips pressed against warm skin.

Loki closed his eyes and let his magic flow.

Chapter 5 / The Glowstick of Doom

The god threw him off his game.

Tony Stark—millionaire, philanthropist, playboy, Iron Man—felt like a sixteen-year-old schoolboy in the presence of the sorcerer.

Out of nowhere, an Asgardian prince in full metal and leather armor had suddenly appeared in his living room, rejected his very charming invitation for a drink, and thrown him out the window. Hours later, that same prince had nearly bled out on one of his guest beds. And then, in a completely uncharacteristic move, Tony had openly talked about his time in Afghanistan during a midnight stroll. What the hell had gotten into him? He wasn't the type to talk about that kind of thing—ever. That made you vulnerable. That made you a target. What was it about this guy that made Tony's defenses come crashing down?

From the corner of his eye, he watched the god, who was currently leaning over the "Glowstick of Doom" with Bruce. Loki was tall, at least a head taller than Tony himself. His sharp, high cheekbones and luminous green eyes were fixed in concentration on the data Bruce was showing him. His jet-black hair, elegantly tied back, cascaded down his back—almost to his ass. Tony tilted his head slightly, silently admitting that said ass could give Cap's a run for its money.

Oookay, wrong direction, Tony. Not the time for that. Then again, he was Tony Stark, playboy. He'd be lying if he said he'd never experimented with the same sex before...

"Earth to Tony! Are you even listening?" Bruce's voice snapped him back.

"Uh, yeah—no. Sorry, could you repeat that?"

"I was just explaining that I've run some preliminary tests on our little shard here. It's made of vibranium. Since that material is known for absorbing energy in various forms, it could explain why it latched onto Loki's power. However, it's also emitting a faint gamma radiation signature. JARVIS confirmed my analysis."

"Hmm, something feels… off, like the shard is radiating something," Loki mused. "I wonder…"

"What are you thinking?" Bruce asked.

"Doctor, how high is the gamma radiation? Would it be dangerous for a human to touch it?" Loki asked, his eyes never leaving the shard—almost as if it were a wild animal ready to pounce at any moment, Tony thought.

"Uh, not very high. Holding it for a few minutes should be safe. JARVIS?"

"That is correct, Doctor Banner. Cellular damage would begin to occur after approximately 32 minutes," the AI confirmed.

"Thanks, Jarv. What's your plan, Lokes? Running a test series?" Tony's eyes flicked to the computer screen displaying the test results.

"That is precisely my intention, Stark. I suspect there is more to this shard than meets the eye. I also believe I know what it does. I'd like to confirm my theory. And my name is Loki," he added, those green eyes locking onto Tony's. His stomach did a little flip.

"Ah, yes, my deepest apologies, Your Highness." Tony gave an exaggerated, mocking bow, earning an eye roll from both men. "Care to share your theory first, or should we blindly throw ourselves on your sword?"

Loki merely arched an elegant brow before continuing. "I believe the shard is infused with magic—magic that binds or consumes any form of energy. If we take turns holding it while I monitor the energy flows, we should be able to determine whether my theory holds. Should Thor return from Asgard today, I will also ask him to participate. It would be interesting to see how an Aesir reacts to it."

Tony and Bruce exchanged a glance. "I thought you were from Asgard too, Loki? Did I miss something?" Tony asked, confused. Oh, wait—something had been mentioned yesterday but left unexplained. Something about monsters and Frost Giants?

A hard line formed around Loki's mouth. "I was raised in Asgard, yes, Stark. However, recent events have brought the truth of my origins to light. I was not born an Aesir but a Frost Giant of Jotunheim."

"I'm sorry, we didn't mean to—" Bruce started, recognizing the sore spot.

Loki waved him off. "Shall we begin?"

"Okay, I volunteer." Tony raised his hand. "Tell me when you're ready." He stepped to the center of the lab, prepared to pick up the shard.

Loki's gaze sharpened, pinning him in place. Damn, that stare nailed him to the spot. Tony didn't know why, but he suddenly didn't dare move—or breathe. His face started to heat up.

"Well, sweetheart, do you like what you see?" he quipped to cover his nervousness.

Loki's eyes narrowed as he ran an elegant finger over his lips. Tony swallowed hard, his gaze following the movement.

"Yes. Not bad for a mortal, Stark. I wouldn't be opposed," Loki smirked, his keen green eyes sweeping over Tony's body.

WHAT?! Oh, hell no. This bastard. Damn it. He liked him. Loki's look sent a shiver down Tony's spine that had nothing to do with the lab's cool temperature.

"My God, Loki, do you have to fan the flames?" Bruce chuckled.

"I am merely concentrating on his energy flow. Is it my fault he lacks patience?" Loki responded smoothly, never breaking eye contact with Tony.

"I'm going to die of boredom here, sweetheart," Tony shot back.

"Very well, I'm ready, Stark. Pick it up."

Loki focused on Tony's energy flow. Yes. Just as he had suspected—the mortal's life energy fluctuated. Loki perceived Tony's energy as a bright glow surrounding his body, but now it was dimming.

"How long, Doctor?"

"Three minutes, eighteen seconds."

"Uh, guys, I'm starting to feel weird. Kind of tired. Weak?" Tony felt his palm tingle. The shard really packed a punch.

"Five minutes, six seconds," Bruce noted.

"Put it down, Stark. That's enough." Loki's gaze stayed locked on him. "Doctor, stop the time."

"Stop," Loki said suddenly. "How long?" He turned to Bruce.

"Exactly fourteen and a half minutes. I assume Tony's energy flow has stabilized?"

"Yes, fully restored. That suggests roughly three times the recovery period compared to exposure time." Loki made a note on his holographic display.

Tony scowled as Loki barely seemed impressed by the advanced technology. That bothered him. He wanted to impress the god. Thor was always impressed by his toys.

Loki stepped toward the shard, stretched a hand over it, and closed his eyes, listening.

Tony's gaze lingered on Loki's elegant hand. A fleeting memory surfaced—gentle fingers brushing his side, resting on his temple. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine. Those fingers had brought peace, rest. Loki hadn't lied. Tony had fallen asleep almost instantly, and it had been the best sleep he'd had in ages.

When Loki opened his eyes, he caught Tony staring. Tony flushed crimson and quickly looked away. That damn fluttering feeling in his stomach was back. Loki's intense gaze stirred something in him.

"The shard contains Stark's energy," Loki said calmly, still watching him. "But it doesn't seem capable of holding it. The energy is fading. Either it wasn't designed as a storage device, isn't large enough, or…"

"Or?" Tony and Bruce asked in unison.

"Or it's not a weapon but a tool—to transfer energy from one being to another."

The three men fell into contemplative silence.

"Then the real question, Sherlock," Tony murmured, "is who created this thing —and why?"

The three men fell into contemplative silence.

"Hmm, the real question, Dr. Watson," Loki finally said, "is not who created this shard, but rather—who attacked me with it?"

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson?" The AI's voice was smooth as ever. Loki flinched slightly at the name.

"Just Loki, please. Are the building and its rooms under video surveillance?"

"Yes, Mr. Loki, I have recordings of all indoor areas and the exterior grounds. Which data would you like to access?"

"Can you determine if, at any point yesterday, I was attacked by someone other than Mr. Stark, Odinson, or Dr. Banner? Specifically, was I struck or stabbed on my left side?"

"One moment, please. I am analyzing the data," the AI replied before falling silent.

"You think it was the Chitauri? And since when do you know Sherlock Holmes? Also—JARVIS, why are you releasing Level 3 security data to an outsider?!" Tony asked, perplexed. Normally, his AI would have checked with him before granting such access.

"Apologies, Sir. I assumed Mr. Loki was to be considered trustworthy, given that you altered his status yesterday from 'enemy' to 'friend' with Security Clearance Level 2. Was this assumption incorrect?"

"No, no, it's fine. Just keep going," Tony grumbled.

He had completely forgotten that, following Fury's assessment, he had authorized Loki's clearance yesterday—otherwise, the god wouldn't have been able to move freely around the Tower.

He glanced over at Loki, who had raised an inquisitive eyebrow but somehow looked… pleased.

"I am honored, Friend Stark," Loki said, mimicking Thor's way of speaking, which made Tony smirk.

"Unfortunately, I am not entirely aware of everything that transpired yesterday. The mind control has left gaps in my memory. Hopefully, JARVIS can shed some light on the matter. As for Sherlock Holmes—I enjoy reading, Stark. Even literature from other worlds. I particularly liked The Hound of the Baskervilles."

"Huh, you're full of surprises and secrets, sunshine," Tony muttered, though he had just voiced exactly what fascinated him about the god.

He had been intrigued by Thor back then—a god from another world! Tony was insatiably curious, and Loki was someone who had clearly seen and experienced a lot. A thousand questions burned on his tongue, but he swallowed them down as JARVIS suddenly spoke again.

"Sir, I believe I have found what you were looking for. There was indeed an altercation."

"Play it, Jarv," Tony ordered, and all three men turned their attention to the projected footage.

The video showed the Stark Tower common room. Loki was just getting up from the hole the Hulk had slammed him into. "Oops, my apologies, Loki," Bruce muttered as they watched the god stagger sideways before crawling toward the bar, apparently to pull himself up.

Then, three Chitauri appeared on the outer platform of the Tower. One of them, slightly taller than the others, wore a more elaborate set of armor, marking him as something more than just a foot soldier. He moved directly toward Loki, drawing a weapon—one of those electric shock staffs the bastards had used before.

They watched as he jabbed the weapon straight into Loki's back just as the god was trying to stand. Loki let out a cry of pain and collapsed back to his knees. The Chitauri grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanked his head back, hissed something unintelligible, and then drove his fist into Loki's side.

At first glance, it looked like a simple punch. But that must have been it.

"Jarv, zoom in!" Tony barked.

And there—yes! They could just barely make out that the Chitauri was holding something in his hand as he struck. He hissed again, released Loki, and disappeared as quickly as he had come.

"Okay, Loki, judging by your face, I take it you don't remember this?" Bruce asked.

Loki stood frozen in the lab, staring at the paused frame of himself—slumped on the floor of the common room.

Thor returned in the early evening.

"Brother, how are you?" He stepped cautiously into Loki's room.

After the tests in the lab and an unexpectedly engaging discussion with Banner and Stark, Loki had withdrawn, exhausted. The two of them had been stimulating conversational partners—more intelligent than he had initially assumed. He had enjoyed debating with minds that truly understood him. Unfortunately, they were still in the dark about the motives behind the Chitauri's attack.

Loki tore his gaze away from the window and turned to his brother. His eyes looked weary, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"I am exhausted, Thor. My mind is still struggling to find order, but everything feels fractured. It is difficult to think clearly. I fear the Titan has left deeper wounds than I had realized..."

He studied his brother with quiet hope—perhaps he brought good news.

"Oh, then this will surely help you, Brother. Look what Father has sent." Thor beamed as he stepped forward, holding up an elegantly carved wooden box.

He placed it carefully in Loki's hands, watching him expectantly. Loki opened it, and at the sight of a familiar golden shimmer, relief washed over him.

"Father was shocked by my report. He sends this and his best wishes for your swift recovery. You are not banished from Asgard, you know. He awaits your return as soon as our affairs here on Midgard are settled. He hopes… to explain himself."

Loki stared at his brother in disbelief.

"The Allfather wishes to explain himself?! Ha! Forgive me if I find that hard to believe, Thor. Since when—"

"It weighed on him when you fell from the Bifröst, Loki," Thor cut in sharply, his voice unusually firm. "He has carried great guilt, and Mother's grief over losing you only deepened his burden. Believe it or not, those were his words. He wishes to explain. He worries for you and wants you to heal. That is why he sends you Idunn's apples. Not just one—three, to be safe. Accept them, Loki, and stop being so stubborn."

"Pff, stubborn? You, of all people, are calling me stubborn?" Loki scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, it must run in the family, Brother," Thor emphasized the last word with quiet intent.

Brother. Was he that? After all the lies that had shaped his life? Loki met Thor's blue eyes but said nothing.

So Thor continued, his voice gentle. "You are—and you always will be. Nothing in this world can change that. Not your blood, not your origins. It does not matter what you are, Loki. I love you, my brother, and I value you more than you know."

Softly, he placed a hand against Loki's cheek—a familiar gesture, warm and steady. With a small smile, he added, "In my eyes, you were always worthy. If only you could see it for yourself." His voice was almost tender as his fingers brushed lightly across Loki's skin.

Loki could only stare, speechless.

Never, in all the years they had spent together, had Thor spoken to him like this. Deep inside him, something shifted—like a missing fragment finally clicking into place. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled Thor into a firm embrace.

They remained like that for a long while—light and shadow, bound in silent understanding. It was Thor who finally broke the moment, though his hands stayed firmly on Loki's arms, as if reluctant to let go.

"Eat one of the apples, Brother, and then come downstairs. Rogers is cooking for everyone. Dinner will be ready in an hour."

In an Asgardian gesture of trust, he pressed his forehead against Loki's.

Then he was gone, leaving Loki shaken and bewildered.

It took an entire apple and a whole week to heal his mind.

His body had never been the issue—his magic had already mended most of his wounds within twenty-four hours. The scars would fade with time.

But the mind was far more complex than muscle and flesh. Eventually, however, clarity returned, and he no longer felt as if he were wandering through a dense fog. The memories, though… well, he could only hope they would fade as his scars did.

"These are all the records and tests we conducted, Thor. You should take them to Asgard as soon as possible, along with the shard. I still don't know what it all means, but Asgard must prepare for whatever is coming. The army needs to know what to watch for," Loki said after another week of tests and examinations.

"Thank you, Brother. I will leave at once. I'll also consult Heimdall—perhaps he has seen something unusual." Thor clapped Loki briefly on the shoulder before taking the offered bundle. "Until later."

The atmosphere in Stark Tower had noticeably relaxed after the initial wariness. That was largely thanks to Thor. His elder brother had gone to great lengths to make the Avengers warm up to Loki. He was deeply grateful for that and did his best to build a connection with these people.

Once, such a thing would never have crossed his mind. Humans were mortal, fragile, unworthy of further attention.

But after his conversation with Thor, he had made up his mind—he would change. His brother saw him as worthy, and that was all he had ever wanted. Worthy of his brother's recognition, his father's, his home's.

As a healer, he had always found it easy to see the wonders of creation. Now, he was trying to appreciate all life, no matter how brief or enduring it was. Loki could be charming when he wanted to be, and he used that skill quite effectively with the Avengers.

He had to admit—he liked the mortals. They were far less prejudiced than the Æsir, who, by default, distrusted him. Dr. Banner was a pleasant conversationalist—calm, intelligent. Loki had already offered him his "services as the Sandman" (as Stark put it) on multiple occasions, and the doctor seemed grateful. Steve Rogers was generally polite and sought peace above all else. Stark, well… was Stark. Loki found himself liking the man—perhaps more than he should.

Natasha Romanoff was quiet, reserved, but seemed to enjoy having a new sparring partner. Their fighting styles were similar, and he found himself looking forward to their training sessions before dinner.

"Wow, I didn't know that move, Loki. How did you do that?" she asked just now, extending a hand for him to help her up.

"I won't reveal all my secrets, Romanoff," Loki grinned, pulling her from the mat. He had used a little too much force, and she was so light that she stumbled against him, laughing.

"Haha, fine, Aesir. Next time, I'll put you on the mat—I'll think of something."

They didn't notice the dark-haired man until he stepped out of the shadows of the training room and cleared his throat.

"Natasha, you coming? Steve says dinner's almost ready," Barton said, though his gaze wasn't on her—he was glaring at Loki.

"I'm going to shower first," she replied and disappeared toward the elevator.

Loki, meanwhile, grabbed a towel and wiped his face. He had been waiting for the hawk to seek him out for some time now. Turning to him, he met his gaze with quiet resolve.

"Barton, would you hear me out?"

Chapter 6 – You Will Not Touch Him!

Nine Months Later

Tony was in party mode.

He was at the trendiest club in town, a martini of some kind in one hand and a blonde in the other. The electronic beats pulsed relentlessly, and bodies on the dance floor moved in a jerking rhythm to the music.

He was drunk, but still a long way from blacking out. It was high time to leave, he thought, and emptied his glass in one swift gulp. The blonde had fastened herself to his neck. What was her name again? Anna, Emmy, Susann—whatever, tonight she'd be his. A proper one-night stand would take his mind off things. Lately, he'd been thinking too often about a certain god, and those thoughts unsettled him deeply.

"Let's go, sweetie," he said, staggering to his feet and pulling the woman with him out into the cool New York night air. Instantly, they were surrounded by a flash of cameras. He cleared a path to the waiting limo, flashing a broad smile at the photographers.

Once inside the car, the blonde—Stephanie, Erika?—really got started, straddling him and pressing her tongue so deep into his throat it was almost uncomfortable. Anny, that was her name, he thought.

"Easy there, Anny. Save something for later, sweetheart." She giggled and started nibbling on his neck and ear, while one hand slowly began its descent toward more intimate territory.

Tony leaned back, content, his hands on her full hips. This night would be interesting.

When the car pulled up to Stark Tower, Tony was ready for anything.

Locked in a passionate kiss, he maneuvered the woman toward the entrance. The two were so tangled together that he likely pressed the wrong button in the elevator. Instead of stopping on the private floor of the Stark Tower, the doors opened one level below, and through the haze of hormones, Tony suddenly heard loud laughter.

He looked up, startled, and saw Barton, Steve, Natasha, and Thor lounging on the cozy sofas in the Avengers' common room. Loki stood in the center, his hands outstretched, palms up, as he conjured some kind of beast before im. He was telling a story, clearly funny, as the others were doubled over in laughter.

Apparently, the god had heard the elevator doors open, because he turned slightly in their direction. His eyes met Tony's—and for a moment, it felt like time stood still.

Even in his drunk state, Tony could see the flicker of surprise and disappointment in Loki's eyes. It sent a sharp pang through his chest, but he tried to shake the feeling off.

He had his hands full—Anny was really a force of nature—but thankfully, she hadn't noticed they were on the wrong floor. Tony fumbled for the button to go upstairs. Just before the doors closed, he saw Loki make a graceful gesture, lowering one hand onto the other and making the beast disappear. Then, he spread his hands again, setting off a small fireworks display in the common room.

His profile was illuminated by green and red sparks, and for a moment, he looked more otherworldly than ever. Beautiful, Tony thought.

The whole thing lasted only a few heartbeats, but to Tony, it felt like an eternity.

He wouldn't have minded stumbling into a room full of Avengers with his girl on his arm. But somehow, it bothered him that the god had seen him. What would Loki think of him now? He tried to shake off the flicker of guilt and focus on the woman in front of him, but it didn't work.

Instead, his thoughts drifted. The fireworks had reminded him of another display. Tony couldn't help but think about Pepper and Rhodey's wedding three days ago. It had been a beautiful affair, with a proud Tony as the best man.

When Pepper had asked if he wanted to bring Loki as his plus one, he'd been initially puzzled. Pepper liked Loki, though she didn't have much to do with him. She always said the god had a good influence on Tony.

In a way, that was true—ever since Loki had arrived, Tony had been getting his paperwork done faster to spend more time with him in the workshop. Of course, only to work on various projects. Loki was pretty smart, almost as brilliant as Tony himself, and it was fun working with him, talking to him, just having him around.

Eventually, Tony had asked Loki, and though the god seemed surprised, he had agreed to go to the wedding with him. Loki had looked stunning in his black suit, white shirt, green vest, and tie. When he twirled Pepper around the dance floor, the entire wedding party had been impressed by his spontaneous dance moves.

The groom had stood beside Tony, complaining that Pepper always stepped on his feet. And then there had been that moment when Loki had looked directly into Tony's eyes over Pepper's shoulder. Tony had imagined he'd seen something in those eyes, but quickly discarded the idea.

They'd had a great time that day, and Tony had drunk far too much. When the newlyweds were sent off with a spectacular fireworks display, the party broke up, and Loki had offered to teleport them home. Tony had draped his arm around the god's shoulders and felt the most fascinating sensation he'd ever had.

A moment later, he'd been blinking in his bedroom. "Wow. Beam me up, Scotty," he'd said, stumbling onto the bed, accidentally pulling Loki with him so that the god was bent over him. And there had definitely been a moment.

Through the haze of alcohol, Tony had leaned forward, and... and the god had simply disappeared with a muttered, "You're drunk, Stark."

Tony shook his head, trying to focus on Anny through the fog.

The blonde was still working on his pants and finally dropped to her knees in front of him. For some reason, he wasn't feeling it anymore, but he didn't want to send her home either. Eyes closed and powering through…

Loki had just set a cup of strong coffee down in front of his brother. He'd woken up earlier than anyone else this morning. The night spent on the sofa in the common room had been more than uncomfortable.

After the elevator incident last night, he had no desire to retreat to his room. He'd remained indecisive after his comrades had scattered. His quarters were still on the upper floor, directly across from Tony's rooms.

The inventor had explained that the lower floor was entirely occupied by the Avengers, and that he had no problem sharing the upper floor with Loki. Still, the thought of potentially running into the copulating couple made him shudder. His mood darkened at the thought.

"You look like you didn't sleep, brother," Thor yawned, taking a large sip of his coffee.

The elevator dinged, revealing a well-groomed Captain America, laden with bakery bags.

"Breakfast!" he chirped.

Loki ran a hand across his face. "By the gods, how can you two be so cheerful?"

"Why so grumpy, brother? Did you sleep poorly?" Thor laughed.

"I barely slept at all. That sofa is definitely not a bed."

Thor and Steve exchanged confused glances.

"Why did you sleep on the sofa, Loki?"

"You have a room," Steve added, looking puzzled.

"Did Stark lock you out?" they both asked at once.

Loki's expression darkened even further. "Stark didn't lock me out. Didn't you notice he had company last night?"

"Company?"

"Did I miss something?" they mumbled through their mouthfuls of pastries and sweets.

"He came home with a woman last night, and I really didn't want to hear—or see—what they got up to all night," Loki finished with a sour note, reaching for a pastry that was offered.

No, he didn't want to know. The mere thought of it made his stomach turn. He reached for his own cup, needing something to hold onto. Just then, the elevator doors opened again, and the aforementioned playboy entered the kitchen of the open common space.

"Good morning, Stark," Thor boomed with a teasing grin on his face.

"How's the esteemed one? You look exhausted," Steve added brightly.

Tony glanced between them, his face turning sour when it finally clicked, and then he snapped at Loki.

"Thanks for the discretion, Loki. If I have a secret next time, I'll make sure you're the last person I trust with it."

Loki set his drink down with a loud clink on the counter. "I didn't realize it was a secret," he replied coolly, standing up.

"I thought you'd be proud of every notch on your bedpost, playboy." He took a step toward Tony, fists clenched. "Besides, I merely answered the question about my night on the sofa," he added, glaring at Tony.

Tony's words had hit him harder than the whole one-night-stand ordeal.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a shower," Loki said, turning on his heel, carefully picking up his tea and a half-eaten pastry, then vanishing in a swirl of green.

Steve and Tony stood there, speechless.

"The hell was that?" Tony muttered.

"Hm," Thor said, grinning.

"Have you never seen my brother teleport?" He stood up with a chuckle and placed a hand on the still-dumbfounded Tony's shoulder. "My brother may play his games, Stark, but when it comes to certain things, he prefers clarity. If he wants something, he wants it whole. He doesn't like to share," he said knowingly, grinning at Tony. "You shouldn't make him wait, Stark. I hear it's a lot more fun when you don't."

The pressure on Tony's shoulder subtly increased as Thor's expression grew serious.

"I don't like seeing my little brother suffer. You should decide what you want, Stark." The pressure grew stronger. "He's not one of your little toys. Don't treat him like one of your many bedmates. He doesn't deserve that."

With one last piercing look, Thor finally removed his hand from Tony's shoulder and picked up the papers his brother had set out for him.

"I'm taking these reports to Asgard. Expect me back by evening. It shouldn't take long."

"Wait, what...?!" Tony watched in shock as the Thunder God walked away. What the hell was that speech supposed to mean?

He looked at Steve for help. Steve's expression was so funny that Tony would have laughed if he weren't so confused. Steve's face switched from curiosity to shock, then disbelief, before he burst into laughter. He had to grab the table to stop himself from falling off his chair.

Tony turned bright red.

"What's so funny?" Natasha yawned, as she, Banner, and Barton joined the breakfast table.

"Tony just got the 'treat my little brother right, or you'll have to deal with me' speech from Thor. And I mean the 'treat him right' in the romantic sense," Steve gasped, still laughing. "You should have seen your face, man."

The others stared at Steve with wide eyes before they too erupted into laughter.

Tony was not about to let this slide in his own tower.

"Oh, just shut up, all of you! I have no idea what Thor meant," he grumbled, trying to sound tough over the general merriment. No one seemed to be listening. Furious, he got up, grabbed his breakfast, and headed out.

"I'll be in my workshop, and I don't want to be disturbed," he muttered.

"Sure, I'll send Loki down later," Barton grinned, earning more laughter.

"Kindergarten," Tony muttered, heading toward the elevator.

The sound of their laughter echoed in his ears as he got to work.

He'd been trying for days to program an emergency landing protocol into the Iron Man suit. He didn't want to repeat the fall through the wormhole and the resulting failure of both man and machine. He had blacked out and fallen like a stone. If the Hulk hadn't caught him, he'd be dead by now.

Loki had been helping him more often with the project lately. Tony had realized the god had an amazing grasp of the material. Collaborating with him had fueled Tony's thought processes in ways he hadn't expected. Not only that, but Loki's sharp perspective on things was intriguing and inspiring.

"A few days and nights in the lab, and of course Thor had to make it dirty," Tony muttered.

He liked Loki. He thought he was funny, and they were on the same wavelength. It was just more fun when the god was around. He enjoyed their conversations. Aside from Bruce, Loki was the only one in the tower who understood what Tony was saying when it came to science. "It's nice talking to someone who doesn't look at me like I'm a giant question mark, Steve. Thanks for that," he muttered.

The Asgardians were interesting, too. He liked talking to Thor about gods and their world. Or was there more to it than that? The little tingling sensation? No.

He appreciated the god's company, even sought it out from time to time. Which was remarkable, really. Tony preferred being on his own, but if he had to pick someone from the team to spend the day with, it would probably be Loki. He was his friend, and Tony trusted him. In the field, there was no better backup than Loki. He was an incredible fighter and always patched Tony up afterward. And then there were the nightmares.

As Tony thought about it, he realized how often the god had played Sandman for him over the past few months. Lately, he hadn't felt as lonely. Tony had learned early on what it meant to be a genius: It meant being alone, almost always. You were surrounded by people, by friends, but most of the time, they didn't understand who you really were.

He paused. Damn. Loki had been by his side for almost a year now. Loki, who understood, who knew what Tony needed because he was just like him. That's why he had felt so guilty yesterday.

Maybe he should apologize to Loki. He had seen how much his words had hurt the god, especially the one about trust. That wasn't what he had meant. He didn't even know why he'd gotten so angry. Had Loki really spent the night on the sofa, just so he wouldn't disturb Tony? Well, that could have been avoided. That little fling hadn't lasted long and certainly hadn't been satisfying.

Notches on the bedpost, pfff, Tony thought angrily.

He should apologize to me.

Three days later, the alarm went off.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had detected a splinter group of Chitauri that had apparently been hiding in a remote forest since the attack on New York.

"Looks like they crashed and have been trying to repair their equipment ever since. We're registering a significant energy surge. I want you to take your team and check it out, Captain—no prisoners," Fury's voice boomed through the conference room.

"Understood," Captain America replied grimly. "Send us everything you've got. Natasha, get the Quinjet ready. Everyone, gear up."

Ten minutes later, they were airborne, heading straight for their target. According to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s intel, around 50 to 60 Chitauri were on-site, including a small spacecraft.

"Alright. Iron Man, Thor—you take the skies. Clint, find yourself a vantage point and do your thing. Natasha, Loki, and I will head in on the ground once we get the go-ahead from above. Bruce, you stay with the jet as backup. Our goal is to neutralize the Chitauri and disable their ship and any weapons. Nothing gets into the wrong hands, understood?"

A chorus of agreement followed.

"T-minus five minutes," Natasha called out.

Thor and Tony moved to the ramp, ready to jump. Hawkeye slung his quiver over his back and secured his bow. "Hey, Loki—mind giving me a lift?" he grinned.

Tony and the others still hadn't figured out what exactly the god had said to the archer, but whatever it was, Clint's attitude toward Loki had done a complete 180.

"No problem. Just tell me where you need to be," Loki replied.

The gods had donned their Asgardian battle armor—black leather, gleaming metal accents. Thor, clad in black, silver, and red, was an imposing sight. Loki, in his signature black, green, and gold, looked—well. Damn good.

Tony hadn't apologized. Instead, he'd practically barricaded himself in his workshop for the past few days. The others had probably been gossiping about him.

He lowered the Iron Man helmet over his face. Blowing something up sounded like exactly what he needed.

The Quinjet's ramp opened, and with a crack of thunder, Thor and Tony disappeared into the sky.

Loki stretched out his arms, and the rest of the team each grabbed hold. They'd learned that in order for him to teleport them, they needed to maintain physical contact.

A moment later, Loki materialized just outside the Chitauri base, dropping Natasha and Steve off before vanishing again with Clint. He reappeared moments later on a rocky outcrop, where he left the archer.

"Thanks. I'll cover you," Clint said as he nocked an arrow.

"Then I have nothing to worry about," Loki smirked.

"Status?" Steve's voice crackled in their earpieces.

"In position, Cap. Loki's heading your way," Barton reported.

"Everything looks quiet up here," Tony chimed in. "Seems like they're all holed up in the ship. We need to draw them out."

"Alright, everyone, regroup on me. Assemble"

They moved into a V-formation behind Captain America and advanced.

Then all hell broke loose.

Chitauri swarmed from concealed openings in the ship's hull, firing everything they had left.

Loki reacted instantly, sweeping his arms out to conjure a shimmering magical shield, blocking the first wave of attacks. At the same time, he sent a shockwave of green energy crashing into the enemy.

"Thor, Tony—fire!" he barked.

The two didn't need to be told twice.

Under the shield's protection, the team pushed forward, cutting down Chitauri left and right—Tony's repulsors, Thor's lightning, Clint's arrows. Natasha and Steve held back for now, waiting for an opening.

But the onslaught didn't stop.

After a particularly heavy barrage, Loki's shield flickered.

"Captain—I can't hold this much longer," he gritted out.

"Alright—Iron Man, take to the air! Everyone else, cover each other's backs. MOVE!"

"Brother!" Thor bellowed, spinning Mjolnir.

Loki let the shield drop and, in an instant, was at his brother's side. Together, they fought their way forward, drawing the brunt of enemy fire.

Tony had already noticed that conventional weapons barely fazed the two gods. The Chitauri's alien artillery was more of a threat, but even that didn't seem to do much damage.

Firing at full blast, Tony took to the skies, covering his teammates. Meanwhile, he watched the gods in action, fascinated.

It was clear they were seasoned warriors, perfectly in sync. Thor called down lightning in devastating arcs while Loki covered his unprotected side, moving with a deadly grace. His fighting style was almost a dance—fluid, precise. He struck, dodged, and withdrew in one seamless motion, intercepting attacks meant for Thor before they could land.

Then, Thor gave a signal, raising Mjolnir high before slamming it into the ground. The resulting shockwave sent every Chitauri within ten meters flying. Most didn't get back up.

Loki had vanished a heartbeat before the impact, only to reappear at Thor's side the next moment.

That was badass, Tony thought, raining down another volley of energy blasts.

Meanwhile, on the ground, Steve and Natasha were locked in combat. Tony barely managed to intercept a Chitauri about to cleave Natasha in two. She finished it off with a stab to the throat and snatched up its weapon.

"Thanks," she winked before diving back into the fray.

Tony kept firing, unaware that the Chitauri were slowly pushing him farther and farther away from the others.

"Watch out, Iron Man! Looks like they were trying to isolate you from the group!" Barton's voice crackled over the comms. From his vantage point, he had a clear view of the battlefield.

"Got it, thanks—ugh!"

He had hesitated for a second too long. One of those damn creatures had grabbed him from behind, lifting him off the ground. The thing was ridiculously strong, pinning his arms tightly to his sides—he couldn't fire his repulsors.

He tried using his boot thrusters to throw the Chitauri off balance. Nothing. The thing didn't budge an inch. Gritting his teeth, Tony diverted more power to his stabilizers, but it was useless.

"JARVIS, what are my options?" he barked.

"Sir, I am calculating—"

The words cut off as something ripped his helmet's visor clean off.

And suddenly, he was staring straight into the cold, inhuman eyes of a Chitauri.

FUCK.

Before he could react, the iron grip around his torso vanished.

A split second later, he was flung across the battlefield, slamming hard against the metal hull of the ship.

Dazed, he pushed himself up, ready to fire—only to freeze when he saw who had just thrown him.

Loki stood in front of him, his back turned, his entire body practically radiating raw energy. It was unsettling. Tony could see green magic crackling around him like a living storm, pulsing and twisting in the air. Loki's head twitched sharply from side to side, assessing the situation.

Then, for the briefest moment, he glanced at Tony, making sure he was still standing.

Tony had never seen that look in his eyes before—murderous rage.

And then Loki hissed something at the Chitauri, his voice low and venomous.

"You will not touch him."

Tony barely registered the words.

Loki was furious, standing protectively in front of him, like a predator defending its kill.

If Tony were in the Chitauris' place, he'd be running for his life.

But, of course, the idiots charged instead.

Loki tore through them like they were nothing. Ten—maybe more—slaughtered in the blink of an eye.

Tony hadn't even lifted a finger.

"Whoa," Barton muttered over the comms. If it looked insane from down here, it had to be an absolute spectacle from his perch above.

"Uh, guys? You've wiped out most of them," Bruce's voice chimed in through the comms. "The remaining Chitauri are retreating into the ship. We could just blow it up and call it a day," he added dryly.

Tony barely heard him.

His gaze was locked onto the god standing in front of him—the same god who had just defended him with his life.

You will not touch him.

His heart pounded so fast it hurt.

That strange, electric sensation was back, creeping through his entire body, making his skin tingle. His vision tunneled, everything fading except for a single figure in green and gold.

When Loki turned to face him, Tony could only stare like an absolute idiot.

His brain refused to cooperate.

The god extended a hand toward him.

Did he… did he want to hold hands?

Tony realized too late that Loki had also lifted his other arm—his teammates had already gathered around him, ready to be teleported.

Moving as if in a trance, Tony closed the short distance between them and reached for Loki's outstretched hand—not his arm.

Without thinking, he laced their fingers together, holding on gently but firmly, his gaze never wavering from those deep green eyes.

Loki blinked, caught off guard for a split second, before a flicker of a smile crossed his lips.

Before Tony could embarrass himself further, Loki teleported them all back to the Quinjet.

As soon as they were safely aboard, Bruce fired off a few well-placed shots—blowing the Chitauri ship to hell.

On another small spaceship, a few thousand meters above the scene:

"That is the sorcerer. Bring him to me—along with his toy."

"Yes, Commander!"

"Are you hurt, Stark?" Loki asked, his voice laced with concern. The mortal was still holding his hand.

Gently, Loki ran his fingers over the gash above Tony's left eyebrow, sealing the wound with a touch of his magic. Then, without drawing attention to it, he slipped free from Iron Man's grip—he didn't want to risk Stark feeling exposed and lashing out at him again.

Tony slowly shook his head but continued staring at him as if in a trance. Loki sighed and guided him to the nearest empty seat, pressing him down with a careful touch.

With a fluid motion, he turned in a circle, scanning the room for serious injuries. Nearly everyone was bleeding—some from minor wounds, others from deeper cuts.

He started with Natasha. She sucked in a sharp breath as his magic stitched her skin back together, but soon she was grinning at him, unabashed as ever.

"Okay, remind me never to get on your bad side, Loki," she murmured, so quietly only Barton and Loki could hear. "That was impressive. Think he got the message?"

Oh.

Had it been that obvious?

"I don't know what you mean," Loki replied smoothly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Now hold still, I need to concentrate."

Natasha only smiled wider but said nothing more.

Next was Barton. Loki had no idea how the archer had managed to take a plasma blast to the leg while perched safely above the fight, but here they were.

"Ahh, I don't know, Loki," Barton mused as Loki worked. "Stark's never been the quickest when it comes to these things. Maybe you weren't subtle enough. You should just put it on a billboard—'Stark, I like you.'"

Natasha snorted with laughter.

"Would you both shut up?" Loki growled, shooting them a venomous glare.

Damn it.

He hadn't meant for his feelings toward Stark to be so obvious. He had hoped the Avengers would see it as nothing more than the natural defense of a teammate. But the moment he'd seen those Chitauri surround his mortal, all reason had left him.

His mortal.

Loki had been thinking of Stark that way for a while now. He'd rather bite off his own tongue than admit it, of course—but apparently, there was no need. Everyone on board seemed to understand his own heart better than he did.

The truth was, when he stood at Stark's side, he didn't feel alone.

He had almost forgotten what that felt like.

Loki could count his true companions on one hand. He was no fool—he knew his status as Asgardian royalty made him desirable, despite his tarnished reputation. The Aesir weren't particularly picky in that regard, so long as there was noble blood in the veins.

But genuine affection? Love? That was an entirely different matter.

Had he ruined any chance at happiness with his reckless display? Did Stark feel the same?

Of course not. How could he? He only sees me as a friend, Loki thought bitterly.

And yet—Loki remembered the way Stark's fingers had curled around his.

And for the first time in a long while, hope flickered to life inside him.

"Ahh, Loki, I didn't mean it like that—please don't break my damn bones," Barton grumbled, jarring him from his thoughts.

Loki blinked and realized his grip had tightened around Barton's leg. He quickly loosened his hold and finished the healing process.

"My apologies," he murmured.

Barton waved him off and tested his newly healed leg. "No complaints here. Thanks."

"Come here, brother. You've taken your fair share of hits as well," Thor's voice rumbled beside him, thick with concern.

His brother's gaze flickered between Loki and Stark—who now sat with his head in his hands, eerily quiet.

Thor had watched the battle unfold. Loki had defended Stark with everything he had. It had been an impressive display—one Thor had only seen from his brother a handful of times.

And each time, it had meant something.

Thor frowned. This was serious.

With a sigh, Loki sank down beside him, feeling uncharacteristically weary.

Thor studied him, as if trying to unravel a puzzle.

Why did his brother always struggle with these things?

Even as a child, Loki had found it harder—so much harder than Thor—to make friends.

And yet, looking at this team—perhaps now he had.

Thor wiped the blood from Loki's face. It wasn't necessary; the god's wounds had already healed without a trace. But still, he took Loki's hand and squeezed it gently.

"You fought well, brother," he said, a fond smile in his voice. "It was like old times. My shield and my sword."

Loki returned the smile, his fingers tightening briefly around Thor's.

He understood.

Everything would be alright.

After the Quinjet touched down on the rooftop of Stark Tower and spilled out a group of exhausted Avengers, they made their way to the briefing room to report to Fury.

An hour later, they dragged themselves off to their respective rooms, drained from the battle.

That evening, they all reconvened in the common area.

After a fight, it always felt better to be around people, Tony thought as he absentmindedly chewed on a piece of pizza. Not that he had much of an appetite—his mind was still elsewhere.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Loki rise from his seat after a brief exchange with Thor. Without another word, the god strode toward the terrace doors.

Tony hesitated for only a moment before pushing back his own chair and following. This was ridiculous. He needed to sort this out.

As he passed Natasha, he swore he heard her mutter, "Finally." He chose to ignore it.

He pulled the door open quietly and stepped into the cool night air.

Loki stood at the railing of the crescent-shaped platform, half-shrouded in darkness, gazing out over the city's endless sea of lights.

The god had been withdrawn the entire flight home, carefully avoiding Tony's eyes.

Tony took a few steps forward, then stopped again, allowing himself a brief moment to just look.

The broad, sculpted shoulders outlined beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. The unruly cascade of black hair, tousled by the wind. And, of course, that ass.

Tony bit his lip, inhaled deeply, and cleared his throat.

"Hey, babe. What are you doing out here?"

Loki flinched and turned, clearly startled—he hadn't heard Tony approach.

And damn, he looked good.

The soft glow from the common room cast warm highlights on his sharp cheekbones, making his green eyes glimmer like cut gems. His long black hair, loosely gathered in a half-up knot, fluttered in the breeze. A faint flush crept across his high cheekbones.

"Loki, I—"

He never got the chance to finish.

In an instant, something grabbed him from behind, yanking him off his feet.

The last thing he saw before his world dissolved into nothingness was Loki, held fast by two Chitauri—one of whom drove a sharp object deep into his shoulder.

Chapter 7 / Chitauri Are Sadists

A heartbeat later, they materialized inside a chamber that looked more like a cave. The walls seemed carved from black stone, streaked with blinking lights, control panels, and—most unsettling of all—a window. A window that revealed a view of Earth.

Holy shit. They were in space?!

Tony fought against his captor with everything he had. His efforts paid off when he landed a solid hit—somewhere around the shin or whatever the Chitauri had in place of one. The creature let out a sharp, pained hiss and dropped him to the floor.

"Do not move, human," a voice rasped behind him.

Tony knew what it felt like to have a gun pressed to his head, and he was not a fan. He froze mid-motion before being yanked roughly to his feet. His wrists were bound in front of him, followed by a heavy shackle around his ankle, securing him to the stone wall behind him with a two-meter-long chain.

A crackling staff was waved tauntingly in front of his face.

"Behave, dog, or you will know pain," snarled Shinbone.

"Fuck you," Tony shot back.

The beast grinned, then drove the staff into his side.

A jolt of raw energy surged through him, searing like white-hot fire. Tony convulsed, gasping as his knees buckled.

"Do not touch him!" Loki's voice rang out, trembling with fury—right before a sickening, wet crack filled the room.

"You are in no position to give orders, God of Lies," another Chitauri sneered before delivering another shock.

Tony heard Loki's sharp intake of breath, and it tightened like a fist around his throat. He tried to get up, but his legs refused to cooperate. Instead, he forced himself to take in his surroundings.

The small chamber was crawling with Chitauri.

"Out. All of you—except you," a deeper voice growled.

The creatures obeyed, filing out one by one. Finally, Tony could see Loki.

They had chained him against the opposite wall.

Like Tony, Loki was shackled, but his restraints were bolted to the ceiling, forcing him to stand with his arms stretched above his head. He was about three meters away, barely holding himself upright by the chains.

Tony's breath hitched when he saw the dark stain spreading across his green shirt. And just above his collarbone, a familiar glimmer of that cursed shard was still lodged deep into his flesh.

No.

Panic clawed at Tony's chest. They couldn't do this to him. They couldn't—he had to help.

He had to—

On all fours, Tony began crawling toward Loki.

"Loki," he whispered.

"A sweet little pet you have there, Silver Tongue. Do you remember me?"

A new Chitauri stepped into view—larger than the others, with a thick scar slashing across his face, making him even uglier than the rest.

Tony's stomach turned.

This one was in charge.

The Chitauri commander strode toward Loki, grabbing his chin in one hand while the other dug mercilessly into the wound at his side.

Loki let out a strangled, quiet cry.

"What do you want?" he hissed, fury lacing his voice.

"I thought I made it clear last time what happens when you fail," the commander said, his voice dripping with venom. "You're lucky. You have more than just me interested in your company."

He smirked.

"There's a bounty on your head. Unfortunately, she wants you alive—but that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun first."

Loki paled, his fear impossible to hide.

"Three days until the rendezvous. Set course," the commander barked at the remaining underling.

Tony felt the ship lurch into motion.

No, no, no. This was very bad.

He stared in horror at the scene before him.

"Now then," the commander sneered.

"Shall we begin?"

Tony wanted to die. It felt like dying.

He couldn't bear to watch any longer—watch what that monster was doing to his god.

His God.

For two days now, the commander had been torturing Loki. Again and again, he drove his claws into his flesh, slicing through skin, carving deeper wounds. Again and again, he shattered bones with brutal blows—not just with his fists, but with iron rods and heavy chains, tearing skin and muscle apart.

Loki had long since lost his voice to scream. Only faint, broken whimpers reached Tony's ears. So he screamed for him. Tony screamed until his throat was raw, cursed the commander in every language he knew, and in the end, he begged.

The bastard just laughed and kept going.

Over and over, he tore the shard from Loki's shoulder, just to give the god a chance to heal—only to drive it back in and bring him to his knees all over again. Loki's magic repaired the damage every time, only to be rendered useless as soon as the shard was reinserted.

Twice, they had been left alone in the cell, if only for a short time. It was long enough for Tony to realize—there was no species in the universe more sadistic than the Chitauri.

Before leaving, they always unshackled Loki from the ceiling and ripped the shard from his flesh, ensuring he could heal. But they had calculated Tony's restraints perfectly—even with his arms fully outstretched, he could never quite reach Loki.

So they lay there, sprawled on the freezing stone floor, Loki in a pool of his own blood. Their fingertips only centimeters apart—yet still, they could not touch.

This was Loki's punishment for failing to conquer New York. The commander reminded him of it constantly, mocked him relentlessly, and promised that worse pain was yet to come.

Tony woke from his exhausted daze at the sound of the heavy lock sliding back.

He turned his head. Loki was mercifully unconscious.

Two Chitauri stepped inside, carrying buckets and rags.

"Well then, onto the final round, Ase," the commander sneered. "After this, you'll get twelve hours of rest. Your bounty requires you alive, after all, and I wouldn't want to upset Thyra. But know this—if I ever get my hands on you again, I will kill you."

With that, he yanked Loki onto his feet.

The god barely had the strength to stand. But it didn't matter—the commander drove the shard into the same wound as before and hoisted his arms back above his head.

"No…" Loki groaned weakly, but the monster only laughed.

Tears welled in Tony's eyes again. He was honestly surprised he had any left. His face was already crusted with salt from two days of grief.

"Please… don't," he choked out, curling in on himself, making his body as small as possible.

Loki was trying to be strong—for him. Tony knew that. He could hear it in the way Loki bit back his screams, in the way his eyes sought his across the room.

Tony had tried to do the same. He had tried to meet Loki's gaze every time the god looked for him.

Because he knew Loki needed that—to hold onto his sanity.

But Tony felt like he was shattering into a thousand pieces.

No.

NO.

He slammed his fists against the stone floor.

He would not let these bastards win.

Slowly, painfully, he forced himself to his feet. His body trembled with exhaustion, but he straightened as best he could, fixing his gaze forward.

And when Loki finally looked at him, Tony held his stare.

The commander stepped back at last.

"Good. You'll even get an extra ration of water and bread tonight. Enjoy your last meal." He smirked. "Oh, and don't bother trying anything—the room is sealed with an energy field."

Tony stepped in his way before he could leave.

"Know this, Chitauri," he said, his voice eerily devoid of emotion.

"I will find you. And when I do, I will kill you with my bare hands for what you've done to him."

The commander bared his teeth in a hissing grin before slamming the door shut.

Tony heard the heavy lock slide into place—then, suddenly, click.

His restraints snapped open.

For a moment, he just stared in disbelief before tearing them off, finally free to move again.

His legs were weak, shaking, but he forced himself forward.

He took one step—then another—before his body gave out.

So he crawled.

On hands and knees, he dragged himself across the floor, until at last—finally—

He reached Loki.

"Loki," Tony breathed, pulling the god against his chest, back to his own body. Finally, he could touch him—even though he barely dared to. Loki's chest was a mangled, bloody mess.

"Anthony."

Tony almost dropped him. He had thought Loki was unconscious.

"I'm here," he whispered, his voice choked with tears.

"Anthony… the shard…"

Tony's gaze snapped to Loki's shoulder—and his heart clenched.

The Chitauri had forgotten to remove it this time.

"Right away." He pressed a kiss to Loki's temple, then gripped the shard in one swift motion. Loki trembled violently, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as Tony tore the damn thing from his flesh.

"What do you think—should we keep it as a souvenir?"

A weak, breathy chuckle was his answer. And just like that, the iron grip around Tony's heart loosened—just a little.

For the next hour, he held Loki close, cradling him against his chest. He whispered soft reassurances into his ear, ran gentle fingers through his hair, traced soothing touches over his cheek, and kissed his temple over and over again.

Only when Loki's breathing finally evened out did Tony dare to move him.

He needed to get him out of that pool of blood.

Carefully, he spread out one of the thin blankets on the far side of the cell. With shaking fingers, he placed the bread and water beside it. Deep breath. Then, gathering the remaining cloths and two buckets of water, he returned to Loki's side.

"How about a quick wipe-down before we get comfortable, babe?"

"A splendid idea, my love," Loki murmured, voice utterly drained. "But you'll have to help me. I'm not sure if my wounds have closed yet."

"Hm, my love? I like that." Tony grinned.

He had also found clean clothes among the rags. Which meant the blood-soaked remnants Loki was wearing had to go.

But when he reached his pants—he hesitated.

Loki smirked knowingly. "Shy, my love?"

"Oh, come on! You're bleeding out," Tony shot back indignantly. "Besides—do you really want this to be the first time I see you naked? I can think of far more romantic settings."

Loki chuckled, allowing Tony to help him to his feet.

The god was so weak, he could barely stand.

Tony leaned him against the wall and started cleaning him up. His chest wounds were still partially open, so Tony tore a strip of cloth and wrapped it around him as an improvised bandage. Alright, upper body done…

His cheeks burned.

Loki raised an eyebrow.

"For fuck's sake," Tony muttered. "Fine. Pants off."

He knelt to undo the lacing.

"Shameless…" he grumbled under his breath.

"Anthony."

Loki's fingers curled under Tony's chin, tilting his head upward.

Their eyes locked.

"Anthony, I'm sorry…"

Tony refused to hear it.

He had been fighting off panic this entire time—barely keeping it together. If Loki started apologizing now, he would break.

So he kissed him.

A brutally effective way to shut him up.

The problem was—now that he had taken that step, the dam burst.

In a single motion, he closed the distance, pressing Loki back against the rough stone wall. His hands found their way into Loki's hair, along his neck, grasping tight. He clung to him like a drowning man, desperate, needing to feel him.

He pushed forward, lips demanding, tongue pressing against Loki's, and the god granted him entry without hesitation.

The kisses softened—but never lost their intensity.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tony knew he was probably hurting him. But he couldn't stop. He had to feel him—solid, alive, standing, breathing.

Because if he let go, if he loosened his grip for even a second—Loki would slip away.

And he could not allow that.

Loki didn't stop him.

If anything—he leaned into him, clung to him just as desperately.

His god wrapped his arms around him, holding him even tighter.

Tony could feel fresh blood seeping from Loki's wounds, smearing against his own skin—but he didn't care.

Nothing else mattered except keeping him here, whole, his.

At last, he broke the kiss, cradling Loki's face in both hands.

"Promise me," he pleaded, breathless, tears in his eyes. "Promise me we'll make it home. Together."

"Promise me you won't leave me."

Loki exhaled shakily, gaze dark and unwavering.

"I won't leave you, Anthony."

His voice was steel.

"To stay with you, I would burn the entire universe if I had to. We will find a way, my love."

And Tony kissed him again—deeper, fiercer than before.

This wasn't just desperation—wasn't just two lost souls clinging to each other to keep from falling apart.

This was real.

This was undeniable.

Loki rested his forehead against Tony's, both of them breathing heavily.

For a moment, Tony just let himself exist in his god's presence, losing himself in it.

A soft rustling sound jolted him back.

His head snapped up.

Then—thud.

Loki's pants had fallen to the floor at the worst possible moment.

Tony's gaze automatically dropped.

Then, slowly, very slowly, he lifted it again.

"You have to be kidding me."

Loki simply shrugged, putting on his best innocent expression.

"Shocked?" he asked, amusement flickering in his emerald eyes.

Tony smirked.

"You wish."

Once they were both relatively clean, their blood-soaked clothes discarded in a corner and replaced with fresh ones, Tony helped Loki over to the other side of the cell.

The god was still breathing in shallow, pained gasps, leaning heavily on Tony's shoulder.

Tony was deeply worried—he had never seen Loki this weak before. He could feel the tremors running through his body, the way he shuddered slightly with every step. He must have been in agonizing pain.

Carefully, Tony lowered him onto the blanket he had laid out earlier. Then, with a quiet sigh, he sat down himself, leaning his back against the rough stone wall and gently resting Loki's head in his lap.

"How bad is the pain, on a scale from one to ten?" he asked softly, running his fingers through Loki's matted, blood-caked hair.

Loki cracked one eye open and blinked at him.

"I'd say… a twenty." His voice was hoarse, but there was the barest hint of amusement in it. "But don't worry, my love. My magic is already working to heal my wounds. I just need time."

Time.

Tony frowned.

How much of the twelve hours did they have left?

And what would happen once the time was up?

Who was this Thyra the Chitauri commander had mentioned? Why did she want Loki? And—why did she want him?

Why was he even here in the first place?

Was it a mistake? Or was it deliberate?

The questions crashed into him, one after the other, now that his mind was able to focus on something other than sheer pain and desperation.

He flinched slightly when Loki spoke again—he hadn't realized the god had been watching him so intently.

"Anthony," Loki murmured, voice low and steady. "I don't know why we are here. I don't know what's coming—or who this Thyra is. The only thing I do know is that I have to regain my strength as quickly as possible. For both our sakes."

A shadow passed over his expression.

"I fear the reason they brought you here," he admitted.

Then, barely above a whisper—

"I'm sorry. I failed."

Tony's head snapped down.

He stared at Loki in disbelief.

"Where exactly," he demanded, his voice sharp with anger, "do you think you failed? Stop talking nonsense."

But Loki's words gnawed at him.

"The reason they brought you here."

Was he meant to be a hostage? A bargaining chip?

If so—what would they do to him?

He didn't want to find out.

They needed to get out.

Gently, he lifted Loki's head from his lap and stood up, scanning the room with renewed determination.

There had to be something here he could use.

A lever, a weak spot in the door—anything.

Wait.

The consoles.

Could he short-circuit them? Send a message?

He approached one, examining the symbols flashing across its surface. But it was useless.

He couldn't read the alien script, and worse—the system seemed to be locked behind some kind of security screen.

No visible power source. No weak points in the walls. The stone was unyielding beneath his fingers.

The door wouldn't budge. Not even a crack to work with.

And worst of all—there wasn't a single damn tool in the entire room that could help them escape.

Damn it.

Loki watched as his mortal paced the cell, his movements growing more frantic with every second. His hands skimmed over consoles and stone walls, searching desperately for something—anything—that could get them out.

But he wouldn't find anything.

Loki knew that.

The Chitauri weren't that careless.

"Anthony…" he called out, his voice rough.

Tony didn't seem to hear him.

And that hurt more than all his wounds combined.

Loki could see the realization sinking in—the awful, crushing truth.

Tony was here because of him.

A bargaining chip. A means to break the god.

What would they do to him?

In his recklessness, in his foolish, desperate desire for companionship, Loki had painted a target on Tony's back. Visible to everyone. Especially to his enemies.

If they wanted to hurt Loki, all they had to do was harm Tony.

He squeezed his eyes shut in despair.

His brother had always told him that love was worth fighting for. That true strength came from making oneself vulnerable.

That had never worked for him.

Loki hated being vulnerable.

The few times he had allowed it, it had only ever ended one way—alone, wounded, left behind.

A sharp burn rose in his throat, and he fought to keep it at bay. But a single tear managed to slip free, tracing a slow path down his cheek—only to be wiped away by gentle fingers.

His eyes snapped open.

Tony was kneeling beside him, his face pale and drawn. The exhaustion and lack of food had taken their toll on him—Loki could see it. But his eyes… they were the same as always.

Steady.

Tender.

"I can't find a way out, babe," Tony admitted, forcing a crooked smile. "Guess we'll have to wait and see where they take us next. Maybe we'll get lucky."

His fingers brushed over Loki's cheek.

"You in pain?" he whispered.

Loki shook his head.

As long as Tony was by his side, there was no pain.

"Okay, my brave little warrior, listen to me."

Tony swallowed hard.

"I know I'm only here because they needed leverage against you."

Loki flinched, shutting his eyes.

Here it comes.

Any second now, Tony would tell him to go to hell. That he hated him for this.

"Hey, babe, come on."

Tony's voice was soft.

"Look at me."

He placed both hands on Loki's face, tilting it up so their eyes met.

"I need you to understand something."

His gaze was steady, unyielding.

"No matter what they do to me, you can't give in."

His thumbs traced slow circles against Loki's skin.

"Lie to them. Tell them I mean nothing to you. If that's what it takes for you to escape—do it."

Loki froze.

What, by the Nine, was he saying?

Was he seriously asking him to watch as they hurt him—to pretend it didn't matter?

The thought alone made Loki tremble.

"I can't," he whispered.

"Loki, please."

Tony's voice was raw.

"We both know what they'll do to me if you don't give them what they want."

He let out a shaky breath.

"I won't pretend I'm excited about dying, but if it gives you a chance to escape…"

His voice cracked.

He cleared his throat, then met Loki's gaze once more.

"You told me you'd burn the whole universe for me."

His lips curled into a sad smile.

"Well—I'd die for you."

He said it so calmly.

Like it was nothing.

Like he had already accepted it.

"NO."

Loki surged forward, but Tony caught him, holding him in place.

So instead, Loki clutched at his arms, desperate, searching his face for any sign that this was some kind of cruel joke.

"I won't allow it," he snarled.

"I'll give them whatever they want. Anything."

His breath was ragged.

"You will not die for me. DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

Tony just smiled.

"Everybody needs a hero sometimes."

He winked.

"Let me be yours."

Loki dug his fingers into Tony's arms, shaking his head violently.

"I don't want a hero!" he growled.

"I want a companion—someone to fight with me, to find a way out of this together."

He took a shuddering breath.

"I want you, Anthony Edward Stark."

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

They just sat there, breathing heavily, staring at each other.

Then, finally, Loki spoke again—his voice barely above a whisper.

"There has to be another way."

He swallowed hard.

"Let's wait. See what Thyra wants. Where she takes us."

His grip on Tony's arms tightened.

"Please."

Tony studied him for a long time.

Then—finally—he gave a small, reluctant nod.

His gaze drifted over Loki's face before shifting slightly, settling on something outside his field of vision.

His brows furrowed.

Loki could see the gears turning in his head.

"Hmm," Tony muttered.

Then, abruptly, he changed the subject.

"Loki—hypothetically speaking—could you teleport us back to Earth, even from here? In space?"

Loki blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift.

But after a moment's thought, he nodded.

"That shouldn't be a problem. I can travel between the Nine Realms with ease."

He hesitated.

"All I would need is a familiar location to anchor to… and enough energy."

"How much energy are we talking?" Tony asked.

"If, say, you needed to do it right now?"

Loki sighed.

"I'm too weak at the moment."

His eyes flickered toward the force fields surrounding the room.

"And even if I weren't, these barriers are designed to suppress my magic."

He hesitated, then added,

"But under normal circumstances, a jump would require about… 50% of a mortal's energy."

Loki's fingers dug into Tony's arms once more.

"Anthony… please."

Don't do this.

For a long moment, Tony just stared at him.

Then—finally—he let out a breath.

"Alright." He nodded.

"We'll find another way."

His gaze sharpened.

"Let's see what this Thyra wants."

He smirked.

"Then? We make our move."

Loki exhaled slowly.

Yes.

They would find a way.

Together.

On Earth

Whoosh. In a swirl of light and lightning, Thor appeared on the Stark Tower platform.

"Have you found anything? What's Asgard saying?" Natasha hurried toward the Thunder God. But a single glance at his dark, worried expression answered her question. Together, they stepped through the door into the bright, bustling common room of the Avengers.

Thor shook his head. "We can't locate them. It's as if they've disappeared without a trace—the Chitauri ship seems to have some sort of cloaking device that's tricking our sensors. Heimdall can't see Loki across the distance…"

Frustrated, everyone present slumped back into their chairs.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't much help either. They tracked the ship right before it left orbit, but they can't even tell us which direction to search," Clint sighed, having stood up again to pace restlessly around the room.

"JARVIS, any ideas we haven't tried yet?" Steve asked for what felt like the fiftieth time, resting his head in his hands.

"I'm afraid we've exhausted all options, Sir," the AI replied.

"Dammit! They've been missing for three days. Is there nothing we can do?" Banner slammed his fist onto the table.

"Calm down, Bruce, we don't need a green incident right now, okay?" Natasha placed a calming hand on his forearm. She looked tense and worried, and Bruce placed his hand over hers in response.

"Do we have anyone else we can turn to for help? What about Wakanda? Is there anyone there who knows about spaceships, about space? Anyone out there who can help us? What about Strange?" Bruce asked desperately, looking around the room. He had lost two of his closest friends in one night, and he couldn't bring himself to accept that there was nothing he could do but wait.

"Wakanda can't help us. I've already spoken to T'Challa. Strange is trying something, but he's not holding out much hope for us. I'm out of ideas…" Steve's voice cracked with frustration. "JARVIS, can you please play the video again?"

A holographic screen flickered to life above the table. The blue light cast harsh shadows on the faces of the Avengers, and they watched once more as Tony stepped out onto the rooftop toward Loki. He paused for a moment, then took another step in the direction of the god.

"Hey, babe, what are you doing out here?"

Loki turned around.

"Loki, I—"

Suddenly, three Chitauri appeared. One grabbed Tony from behind and vanished, while the other two subdued Loki, stabbing one of those shards into his shoulder. A second later, they disappeared too.

The entire attack had lasted no more than two minutes, but the Avengers had been too slow to reach the terrace in time.

The footage stopped as Thor burst through the door, calling out for his brother, who had already vanished. The hologram dissolved into thin air, and the room fell into a heavy silence.

In Captivity

"Lie down with me, it's cold," Loki said in relief, pulling Tony into the gap between his body and the wall.

"Let me at least be your shield for a few hours, if I can't protect you otherwise," he added bitterly, wrapping his arms around his mortal.

"Hmm," Tony sighed, pressing his back against Loki's chest. The man fit perfectly into the curve of Loki's body, and Loki contentedly rested his chin on Tony's head. He could feel his lover slowly relaxing.

"I'm not usually the little spoon, but this... this is perfect," Tony purred, pressing his backside and legs against Loki's body. "What a shitty first date, huh? I had something else planned," he continued, babbling.

Loki knew Tony was trying to distract him. He was still grappling with the idea of how best to die for Loki. That stubborn fool. Loki pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.

Loki had known Tony for almost a year now, and he had recognized that expression instantly. It was the face of a man desperately searching for a solution—knowing all too well that there was only one path, the one he had already decided on. Loki could almost hear the sharp mind working under his chin.

But it would do them no good, Loki thought sadly. He didn't believe Tony had been taken by the Chitauri by accident. Aside from the initial blow, they hadn't touched him. That meant Thyra wanted them both, and it could only end one way.

Whatever she wanted from Loki—if he didn't give it to her, she would kill Tony. If he did give it to her... perhaps he could negotiate with her? He was, after all, the God of Lies, cunning and ruthless when he needed to be.

The problem was Tony was with him, and Loki could not risk anything happening to him.

It couldn't end here, not before it had even really begun.

Perhaps... if he had enough energy... they could escape during the handover. He would grab Tony and teleport them both to Earth. Would his energy be enough? He had to try. There was no guarantee Thyra would still have use for him once she got what she wanted.

More likely, she would just kill them both. His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain in his side.

"Ahh, damn it... mmm," he gasped, wincing. Tony shifted in his arms so they were face-to-face, looking at him with concern.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain? Of course you are, how could you not be? What can I do?" His fingers gently moved over Loki's bandaged chest, checking if his wounds had reopened.

"It's nothing," Loki gritted through clenched teeth. "Just... healing bones of this magnitude is a bit uncomfortable. That bastard nearly crushed my entire ribcage."

"Oh..." Tony suddenly turned red. "Ohh... damn, and I... and I pushed you against the wall earlier... um, sorry if I caused you extra pain," he mumbled, embarrassed.

Now Loki had to laugh. Their situation was terrible, but Tony was just too adorable. "What's gotten into you, Anthony? I don't know you like this. You, the self-proclaimed playboy, should understand the concept of pain and pleasure…" He grinned devilishly, satisfied as he watched Tony's mouth fall open.

Tony propped himself up on one elbow, looking at him incredulously from his new, elevated position. "Are you messing with me right now?" When Loki just grinned back and let out a light laugh, Tony got angry.

"Will you shut up already?"

"Make me," Loki whispered, just before Tony closed the distance between them and effectively silenced the god.

The kiss was mind-shattering. Just like the first time, it made Loki forget the pain he was in and where he was, almost making him melt. When they finally broke apart, he breathed against Tony's lips.

"Do you know what kind of fireworks you set off in my mind?"

He saw the satisfied grin on Tony's face and realized he had just spoken those words out loud.

"Hmm, well, that was the point," Tony replied, slowly sitting up again and looking at him intently. "When I came to the roof to see you, I actually wanted to tell you something. Hmm, I... I wanted to tell you how much I... like you... What you said earlier... that you want me—did you mean that?"

"I meant every word I said to you, Anthony," Loki said seriously. "So... you like me, huh?" He smiled and gently placed a hand on Tony's cheek.

"Well, no...," Tony began, and Loki paused.

"I mean, this goes way beyond liking. This is something... deeper," he finished lamely.

Loki remained silent, watching as Tony wrestled with the words he couldn't quite find. Finally, Tony exhaled in frustration, placed his hand on Loki's cheek, and tried again.

"Okay, nothing has gone as planned. This is all happening way too fast, and we're stuck here in this mess. But damn it, Loki... I want you too. You promised we'd find a way out of here, and I'll be damned if we're stuck with just an '... ending.' I'll kill anyone who dares to lay a hand on you," Tony spat fiercely.

"You said you didn't need heroes, but now you have me, whether you like it or not." He swallowed hard. "What I'm saying is, I'm totally into you, and I'd really like to be your companion. I think that's the word you used..."

Loki could barely breathe. His heart felt like it might burst with joy, and he swallowed hard.

"Ek ann þér. Come here," he whispered, pulling Tony into another kiss.

There was nothing more to say. They pressed against each other again and finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.

"How do you feel?" he asked as his god slowly opened his eyes.

Tony, unable to find rest due to his own tension, had instead kept watch. While feeling Loki's heartbeat had offered him some comfort, sleep had been impossible. He studied his god with concern.

He looked terrible. The pained expression on Loki's face had been constant since they'd arrived on this cursed ship. Only when Tony touched him did the veil seem to lift. He could feel Loki's body trembling faintly. Fever, Tony thought with growing worry. He had held him the entire time, but his body heat didn't seem to be enough.

"I've been better," was all he got, before Loki closed his eyes again.

"Did you stay by my side the whole time?" the god asked softly.

"Hmm, I can't sleep anyway," Tony sighed, gently brushing his fingers across Loki's cheek.

How much time was left of the 12 hours? Before Tony could finish the thought, he felt the ship slow down.

He looked toward the only window in the room and noticed that the stars were visible again, instead of just streaks of light. Damn, it seemed like they had arrived.

He reached up for the shard he had pulled from Loki's shoulder a few hours earlier. The thing glowed a toxic green in his hand. He wondered where he should hide it, considering its radiation. Eventually, he stuffed it into the zipper pocket of his jeans—luckily, he had one—and hoped it wouldn't be discovered. This thing would be their last resort.

"I think we're here, babe. What do you think? Do you have enough energy for a getaway during the handover?" he asked tensely.

Loki opened one eye and glared at him. "You can count on me." They exchanged a grin.

Suddenly, a hissing sound filled the room.

Startled, they looked around.

What was that?

Tony quickly pulled Loki to his feet.

"What the hell is this now? Can you see where it's coming from—" He didn't finish the sentence before he suddenly started coughing violently.

Something was wrong with the air—it felt like there wasn't enough of it. Tony's lungs seized painfully, and he gasped for oxygen. His vision began to narrow, and he dropped to his knees. Panic surged within him as he desperately tried to breathe.

Loki collapsed beside him and stared at him in horror. "Gas..." the god coughed.

No, no, no, this couldn't be happening. They'd been knocked out for transport with gas.

It was clear the Chitauri weren't as stupid as they looked.

Tony reached for Loki's hand, interlocking their fingers and holding him tight. He clung to that hand, the only solid thing in the encroaching darkness.

He couldn't lose him.

"Damn..." he gasped.

Then everything went black.

Chapter 8 / Majutas and a Vanir

Tony groaned quietly. Damn, how much had he drunk yesterday that his head was pounding this badly? He needed to get up and find some painkillers. Wait—something was wrong: he was already standing.

His head snapped up as his mind began to process again, and he remembered what had happened in the past few days.

Loki.

He glanced around in panic, trying to focus his vision.

His sight kept blurring. It must be the damn gas the Chitauri had used to knock them out.

He realized he was in a round room with smooth, gray metal walls. No windows, no lights, no consoles—the room was completely empty. Empty, except for a god of lies and mischief, bound to the wall by metal straps not far from him. The shackles seemed to merge directly with the wall, restraining his wrists and ankles. Another wide strap ran across his chest. Green eyes met his gaze steadily.

"Good morning, my love. Welcome to the honeymoon suite," Loki said.

Tony snorted and grinned at him.

"Fuck. I thought we booked the package with massage and jacuzzi, not the one with BDSM and bondage. This is really not my thing. Seriously, I thought we were in space with other species more advanced than us. So why does this feel like the Dark Ages? All this wall-bondage stuff is straight out of the 15th century."

Just like Loki, Tony was bound to the wall with five straps. He tried to twist his hands experimentally, but the shackles were tight and didn't budge an inch.

"Have you tried teleporting? Is there some sort of force field here?" he asked without looking at Loki, continuing to test his restraints.

"Anthony..." Loki's voice was soft.

Tony glanced at him. The god's eyes fell to his shoulder and back to him. Tony followed his gaze and gasped.

Loki wasn't just restrained by five straps; a thick metal rod was protruding directly under his collarbone. It was far larger and thicker than the narrow shard the Chitauri had used. It looked almost like a crowbar. Someone had driven it straight through Loki's shoulder and into the wall behind him. Blood seeped from the wound, forming a small pool at his feet.

"God damn it, babe, could you stop getting impaled by these things?" Tony gritted out.

His voice trembled slightly, but he refused to give in to panic. Breaking down wouldn't help either of them now. Loki played along, offering him a distraction.

"I'm sorry, but when I woke up, it was already there. I didn't have much of a say in the matter," Loki replied dryly, flashing Tony a small smile.

Just then, the door hissed open, and their hosts entered.

"Ah, our honored guests are awake. Welcome aboard the Eyda," said a tall woman with sharp features.

Her dark-lined eyes were such a deep blue they almost appeared black. Her long blonde hair was styled in Viking fashion, swept back over the crown of her head, with braids twisted at the temples. She wore a leather armor with silver buckles, tall laced boots, and a fur draped over her shoulders. She could have been called beautiful, if not for the insane gleam in her eyes, Loki thought. She also seemed strangely familiar.

Loki's heart sank as he noticed the two creatures following her into the room. He'd last seen these reptilian beings hundreds of years ago on Vanaheim, one of the Nine Realms.

Majutas—mercenary race from the edge of the galaxy.

"Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard, how nice to finally meet you in person. I've heard stories about you my entire life," she continued. The smile she gave him didn't reach her eyes.

He inclined his head slightly. "Thyra, I assume. What brings us this honor?" If she wanted to play games, fine.

"I was hoping the crafty god of lies could help me with a problem," she said, tilting her head slightly.

"And what would a Vanir from Vanaheim, aboard a ship named Destruction and crewed by Majuta mercenaries, have to do with a problem?"

She flinched almost imperceptibly. Did she think he wouldn't recognize her accent and the clothing of her people?

"Oh, so the stories are true. How clever you are. Alright, enough with the games, Odinson," she said, her eyes flashing even more intensely with the last words.

In a few strides, she crossed the room and grabbed the rod protruding from Loki's shoulder. "How do you like my little toy? I call it Brydda," she said, twisting the damn thing inside his wound.

"Fascinating," Loki hissed through clenched teeth.

"Isn't it? I spent years developing it. When I saw you in battle back then, I knew we'd need a weapon against sorcerers like you." She watched him closely. "You may be stronger than I am, but with this in your body..." She twisted the Brydda again. "...you're utterly helpless."

Loki exhaled sharply, his eyes burning with fury as he glared at her.

"How long did it take the great Loki Odinson to notice the Brydda in his side?" she asked with a predatory grin.

He stared at her in disbelief. The Chitauri attack in New York had been her doing?

"I'd planned for you to be eliminated by the commander. Without you, it would have been much easier to get to Thor," she sneered. "But you refused to die."

Loki regarded her coldly, remaining silent.

"How well you've kept control. I must admit, I'm a little disappointed in the Chitauri. I thought their hospitality would have affected you more. I'd hoped to find you a little less... defiant, but very well." She glared at him, and suddenly, Loki felt a spell wash over him, followed by a kind of pull. So that's how the Brydda worked.

Loki felt his energy being drained through the shard. But it wasn't just energy—she was siphoning off his magic.

NO! He widened his eyes in horror.

"You're a real bitch, you know that?" he gasped.

She laughed and released the Brydda, instead reaching for his face.

"Maybe I picked the wrong brother. You're delicious."

With these insane words, she suddenly pressed herself against him and kissed him harshly on the lips.

"See you soon, darling." She turned and left the room.

"Damn, what was that?!" Tony asked sharply.

He had turned his head as much as he could towards Loki, anxiously waiting for a response.

His god had curled his lip in disgust, spat, and then turned to face him. Tony felt a sense of satisfaction—who did that bitch think she was, just kissing Loki like that?

"She seems somehow familiar, but I don't know who she is. I can tell you where she's from, though."

"She's a Vanir from Vanaheim, one of the nine worlds of Yggdrasil's World Tree. It was a fertile land where magic and trade ruled. This brought prosperity and wealth to the nine worlds, until the Vanir grew too greedy and began abusing their magic for dark purposes. The Allfather eventually sent an army around 357 years ago to put an end to the incest and dark practices.

It was a bloody battle, as the Vanir were aware of our coming and had hired a battalion of Majutas for their defense. My brother and I led 700 soldiers each into the field, and after long battles and many losses, we finally won the fight. Since then, there has been a deep mistrust between our peoples, which I regret. There's no better place in the nine worlds to study magic than Vanaheim, and now that path is closed to me."

Tony blinked at his god. Silver-tongued, through and through—he could've listened to him for hours.

"I'm afraid Thyra wants revenge for what happened back then," Loki concluded.

Tony nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, that makes sense. But did you just say you led an army into battle 357 years ago?!"

Loki gave him a serious look. "Yes," he said briefly.

"Uh, I know, this is probably something you shouldn't ask, but... how old are you, Babe?" When Loki chuckled softly, Tony realized his god must've thought he was troubled by the war talk. He grinned widely.

"I'm 1,046 years old, Anthony. In human years, that's about 20."

Tony's mouth fell open.

"One thousand... wait, are you telling me I've been making out with a minor?"

Loki flashed him one of his devilish grins. "You call that making out? I think you could do better."

Tony felt his face flush. "Okay, I'll come back to that later. What did Thyra do with the staff?" he tried to steer the conversation.

Loki sighed and let his head rest against the wall. "Hmm," he hummed contentedly with his eyes closed.

"I can't believe this! You were tortured for three days, you're chained to a wall with a damn crowbar in your shoulder, and you're really picturing what you could do to me in bed, aren't you?" Tony said after a long silence.

Unbelievable.

How likely was it to meet someone who thought just like he did? Tony laughed. Now he understood why he sometimes got on people's nerves.

"If you want the fireworks, Babe, we need to get out of here first. Any ideas?"

Loki's gaze locked with Tony's.

"She's using the Brydda, as suspected, to drain energy from my body. I felt a spell before the flow began. Anthony, she... she's not just draining energy, she's stealing my magic," he said quietly.

Tony could see fear in his god's eyes.

"What do you mean, 'she's stealing it from you'? Is it gone forever, or can it come back when the staff is out?" he asked gently.

"I... I'm not sure."

That wasn't good. A cold shiver ran through Tony. Without Loki's magic, there was no way they'd get out of here.

But more importantly, Loki needed his magic—it was a part of him. Taking his magic would be like taking Tony's arms. Loki had confided in him about that during one of their long talks while working in the lab.

"Loki, I..."

With a soft hiss, the door opened again, and Thyra entered the room. This time, she was alone.

"What do you want?"

Tony looked at his god in surprise. He had said those words as if he were standing in full armor in the throne room of Asgard—not chained to a wall, with nothing on but torn pants.

Thyra paused for a moment, but then continued toward him.

"Well, my prince, I'd like to present my request," she said coldly, standing right in front of him.

"I demand your blood debt, Loki Odinson," she hissed.

Loki remained unfazed and asked, "By what right?"

"You came to our land without any right, slaughtering my people. The two princes of the realm, one bright as the sun, the other dark as the night. Born to rule and protect, yet instead, we knew nothing but oppression, fear, and death at your hands.

I was young back then, almost a girl, but I remember you, Odinson. I saw you ride onto the battlefield, your shining armor, your black stallion. I saw how my father faced you, and I saw how you struck him down. My mother was also killed, though not by your hand, but still by Asgard's." She glared at him, furious.

"Vanaheim knew why we came. You were practicing dark, forbidden magic and threatening to plunge the realm into shadow. I'm sorry for your loss, but there was war in those days. I killed many men and women in the name of the Allfather. I cannot undo that. And you know as well as I do that you cannot demand blood debts for blood spilled during wartime. So, what do you want from me?" Loki said this so calmly that Tony couldn't help but shudder. So this was the dark side Loki had spoken of sometimes.

"I want an alliance, Odinson. I want the throne of Asgard to avenge my people and restore the realm to its true greatness. Yggdrasil is decaying under Odin's rule, and you know it. He is an old man, no longer capable of ruling the Nine," Thyra purred, stepping even closer.

Oh, she was good, Tony thought. But if you want to lull Loki into your plans, you need to wake up earlier, bitch. For his taste, she was already way too close.

"You have no claim to the throne of Asgard. How do you plan on taking it?" Loki asked, still in that cold, indifferent tone.

"I want Thor as mine." Tony was speechless. This girl really wasn't all there. Did she think she could win Thor's heart and get him to fall in love with her?

"I've secured the services of a battalion of Majutas, spread across two of these ships. I will attack Asgard and Midgard simultaneously. Since Thor, according to my information, is currently on Midgard, I'll begin the invasion there with half my warriors. Meanwhile, you could take the rest to Asgard." She watched Loki with a calculating gaze. Loki raised an eyebrow in response.

"I know what they're whispering behind your back in Asgard, Odinson. Or should I start calling you Laufeyson now? They despise you, and they make sure you feel it. They mock you for your magic, which has never been much valued in Asgard. Am I wrong? Don't you want to show them where their rightful place is, warlord? Be my supreme general and lead the forces to Asgard. Conquer the throne from your despised adoptive father and give it to your brother."

Tony was shocked. He was struggling to process all this information.

"I'm curious," Loki said slowly. "How exactly do you plan on getting Thor to marry you and grant you a say in matters of state?"

Thyra laughed. "Oh, that will be one of my easiest tasks. My parents always had grand plans for me. A tribute to Asgard, to strengthen the bond between our two realms. Do you know what my name means? I will be Asgard's new queen, the one who draws her power from Thor—Thyra, the Goddess of Battle."

Okay, this girl was seriously nuts. Tony could see her eyes bulging slightly as she spoke.

"I was trained in the forbidden arts, as you call them, my prince. I know how to manipulate and control minds. Your brother, once he touches me, will no longer be master of his senses. He will be my puppet, and you, Loki, will stand over him as my supreme general. Something you've longed for your entire life, I know, it's reflected in your eyes." She took another step closer.

She was way too close! Tony wanted to scream at her to back off, that Loki was already taken, and she needed to find another god. But that was exactly her twisted plan.

Now, she was starting to caress Loki's chest sensually, her lips just millimeters from his.

Tony gritted his teeth and growled softly. He knew he'd incur Loki's wrath if he spoke now. Loki wanted to know what Thyra was up to, and she was happily spilling the details of her crazy plan.

"What do you say, my prince?" she whispered, pressing another kiss to Loki's lips.

Tony clenched his fists, and was satisfied to see that his god didn't even blink, staring straight ahead stubbornly.

When she finally pulled away after what felt like an eternity, Loki replied, "I'm afraid I must decline your generous offer." He turned his head and spat again. "And if you try to kiss me again, I'll bite your lip off."

Thyra staggered back a few steps, staring at him in disbelief.

"But how...?" she stammered.

"You may have been trained in the arts of mind magic, Thyra, and I assure you, you're good. But don't forget, I'm skilled in magic as well. You cannot invade my mind like that."

Tony was so damn proud of him. Sure, he was clearly in the weaker position, but he'd delivered a solid FUCK YOU. Tony would've done exactly the same thing. Even though he knew something less pleasant was about to happen. It was about principle, and Loki was clearly as bold as Tony himself would've been.

Something is definitely wrong with me, Tony thought.

I'm falling for this guy more every second.

"As you wish," Thyra finally replied.

"Then, we'll do this the hard way. You will tell me how many soldiers Asgard has, what defensive strategies you have, and where my army should land."

With that, she pressed her fingers to Loki's temples and began murmuring in a language Tony didn't recognize.

Loki closed his eyes, and Tony could see his whole body tense.

Clearly, Thyra wasn't getting what she wanted, because soon after, she bared her teeth.

"You bastard!" She lowered one hand and conjured a shard of black stone, shaped like a dagger.

Without warning, she drove it into Loki's chest.

"No!" Tony screamed, throwing himself against his restraints.

"Hey, you bitch, how about you challenge him when he's not chained up and pierced with a damn crowbar? Ever heard of fair play?"

Thyra slowly turned toward him, her gaze icy.

"Oh, sorry, man of iron. I completely forgot about you."

Okay, his plan had worked. He'd distracted her from Loki, and now his god had a brief moment to recover. But this dangerous woman was coming toward him now.

"Let's see what you've got to say about Midgard's defenses," she said, extending her fingers toward him.

Tony jerked his head back. "Uh, sorry, lady, but I'm kind of in a committed relationship."

She gave him a predatory smile. He felt her cold fingers brush against him, and then there was an incredible force pressing against his mind.

It felt like a wave, like the surf back home in Malibu, Tony thought. Then he heard a voice in his head, and suddenly, images started swirling through his mind: S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers, his best friend Rhodey at the Air Force base. He tried to stop the flood, but he couldn't keep up.

It stopped as quickly as it had begun. The pressure let up, and he blinked to clear his vision.

Thyra's fingers dug into his cheeks, and she twisted his face toward her.

"How disappointing. I'd hoped Midgard would entrust its elite fighters with more information. Your little toy is useless. What do you even see in him?" The last part was directed at Loki, who had been struggling against his restraints, breathing heavily.

"Get away from him!"

"Take it easy, I won't harm him. Not yet. So, where were we? Oh yes..." She turned back to Loki, summoned another dagger, and drove it into his right thigh.

No, Loki! Tony weakly pushed against his restraints. He had to help him, he had to...

Tony's vision blurred. His brain felt as though it had been slammed against a wall multiple times. He felt nauseous. He lost consciousness several times. Each time he regained his senses, Loki had more wounds on his body, and Thyra was relentlessly tormenting his mind.

A few times, he also heard those lizard-like creatures in the room. They hissed insults at the god and asked Thyra if they should set a course.

"No, I need the information from his head first..." Tony lost consciousness again.

"YOU BASTARD!" The scream pulled him back to consciousness. Weakly, he lifted his head and saw Thyra stepping away from Loki's body. Both were breathing heavily; his companion's eyes were closed, and he was now trembling uncontrollably. Tony watched, blurry-eyed, as Loki's head finally slumped to the side.

"Set course for the Alpha quadrant! We're commencing the invasion of Midgard. How long until we reach the target?" Thyra shouted at the Majutas in attendance.

"18 days. Did you get the information you wanted from the pitiful god?" hissed one of the lizard-like creatures.

Tony let his head drop again, pretending to be unconscious.

"No! But it doesn't matter. We'll still succeed. Thanks to the human, I at least know exactly where Thor is. We'll stick to the plan and attack both worlds simultaneously," she growled.

"What should we do with them?" asked another Majuta. A hiss was followed by a clawed hand scraping over Tony's scalp, pulling him by his hair. Tony continued to play unconscious.

"This one's as good as dead," the beast remarked, letting go of Tony's head.

"Then let him watch his beloved god bleed out, and then open the airlock. I never want to see this scum again," she spat venomously.

With a sweeping motion, she made Tony's restraints vanish, and he let himself collapse to the floor.

Damn, an airlock?!

"Get out of here, all of you!" Thyra shouted at the Majutas; she seemed utterly unhinged. Tony gasped as a boot slammed into his stomach.

"Wake up, you piece of shit!" she yelled, delivering more kicks to his back and stomach. He rolled onto his side, coughing up blood, glaring up at her defiantly.

With an iron grip, she grabbed his jaw and yanked him upward. "You pitiful creature. I'll grant you a quick death, but first, you'll watch him die!" She spat in his face and threw him back to the floor.

Horrified, Tony watched as she swiftly summoned at least twenty daggers in one fluid motion, hurling them at Loki.

He couldn't stop her; he was too weak. With a sickening sound, each projectile found its mark, and the god screamed in agonizing pain.

No!

With another flick of her hand, Thyra dispelled his restraints, but Loki was still held upright by the Brydda. She wrenched it out of his shoulder with force, and only then did the god collapse to the ground.

"NO! LOKI!"

Tony crawled to his side, desperately pressing his hands against his wounds to stop the bleeding.

With a maniacal laugh, Thyra vanished, leaving them behind to die.

Chapter 9 / Cheeky Blueberries

"LOKI! Loki!"

Tony was in a panic. There was so much blood.

With trembling fingers, he began pulling the daggers from his lover's blood-soaked body.

Thyra hadn't left a single inch untouched in her final assault. The only reason she hadn't hit his heart was because the restraints had been in the way.

When the last blade was removed, Tony tore off his shirt and pressed it against the wounds, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

"Come on, babe. Loki, please wake up," he pleaded.

Loki's eyelids fluttered, and with a painful groan, he finally opened his eyes.

"My Love..." he whispered.

Tony nearly sobbed with relief. "

There you are," he choked out, his trembling fingers brushing over Loki's face.

He couldn't afford to lose control now—if he did, they'd both be dead. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he locked eyes with Loki.

"Listen to me carefully. We don't have much time. I know you're going to hate my idea, but we have no other choice if we don't want to be sucked into space," he rattled off, pulling the small Brydda shard from his pocket.

Loki's eyes widened in alarm, and he started to shake his head.

Tony silenced him with a kiss, pressing his lips against his god's pale ones. "Please," he whispered into the kiss. "We have to try. We're going to die here anyway, so please... take it."

He felt Loki's hand slowly close around the Brydda in his own. Tony let go and braced himself.

Loki pulled him halfway onto his lap, kissed him again, and then drove the shard into Tony's upper arm.

Tony gasped, clutching onto Loki's bleeding body, his lips still ghosting over his lover's. He shared Loki's breath as he felt the energy being drawn from him.

It was a strange sensation—like being drunk. Everything turned soft and hazy, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. He kissed Loki one more time before resting his head against his lover's neck, unable to hold himself up any longer.

"Now, Anthony..." Loki finally murmured, and the pull stopped. Tony clung to him, feeling himself wrapped in strong arms.

"I love you," Tony whispered before everything went black.

Loki crashed painfully onto a hard surface and didn't dare open his eyes.

Had it worked?

He had known what his mortal intended the moment Tony had pocketed the Brydda shard on the Chitauri ship.

But actually using it—to steal his lover's energy—had felt horribly wrong. Yet Tony had been right; it had been their only option.

Now, as distant voices called out through the haze of pain, Loki knew they had succeeded. He recognized Natasha, Clint, and Steve, all shouting over one another.

"OH MY GOD! TONY! LOKI! FUCK! HOLY SHIT! BRUCE, NOW!"

He opened his eyes and found himself lying sprawled across the dining table in the Avengers' common room, still clutching Tony tightly against his chest. He could feel the steady, reassuring heartbeat next to his own.

"We made it, my love," he whispered. A faint groan was his only response.

Strong hands pried his arms apart, lifting Tony from his grasp.

"Brother."

Thor was at his side, brushing Loki's damp hair from his face before carefully lifting him into his arms. That single tender gesture shattered Loki's composure.

He had been strong for his mortal, had tried to suppress the pain, to stifle his screams. But that one word—Brother—undid him.

"Brother, it's all right. I've got you. You're safe now."

Loki clung to Thor and let out a strangled, broken cry. He felt the tears come and didn't bother holding them back.

Thor was stunned. He had rarely seen his little brother cry.

"Shhh, Loki, it's all right. I'm here. I won't let go," Thor murmured as he carried him down the hall. "Where to, Doctor Banner?"

Steve, holding Tony, kept pace beside them as they rushed toward the med bay. Loki barely registered being placed onto a soft bed.

"So much blood..." Natasha whispered.

It must be bad, Loki thought vaguely, if even the assassin sounded shaken.

His breathing was labored. Though his strength had returned when Tony had shared his energy, the jump had nearly drained him again. His wounds refused to stop bleeding.

That was not good.

A hand gently slipped under his head, lifting it slightly.

"Eat, brother. Please."

He tasted the sweetness of an apple pressed against his lips. A golden apple. Thor must have fetched one from his quarters.

The dark spots clouding Loki's vision multiplied, and a dull roar filled his ears. The pull of unconsciousness was growing stronger, creeping in like a black tide.

"Loki..." Thor's voice cut through the haze, urgent and pleading.

Loki forced his mouth open, allowing the fruit to be placed between his teeth. Chewing was exhausting. Swallowing was worse.

"Good, take another, brother."

Another slice. Then another. He was so, so tired.

"Bruce, something's wrong..."

That was the last thing Loki heard before the darkness swallowed him whole.

"You bastard!" Thyra screamed before hurling her daggers straight at Loki's body.

The beautiful body of his god—the one he had failed to protect.

Tony could only watch helplessly as Loki bled out in his arms.

No, no, NO!

Tony groaned, his head thrashing wildly from side to side.

"No… Loki," he mumbled, lost in the nightmare. A small hand on his shoulder shook him awake, dragging him back to reality.

"Tony, Tony, you're safe. Calm down."

He knew that voice.

Blinking his eyes open, he found himself staring into the worried face of Pepper Potts, one of his dearest friends.

"Where am I? Loki?" he asked, panic creeping into his voice.

Rhodey stepped up behind Pepper, resting a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder. "Don't worry, Tony. Doc Banner is taking care of him. We brought you to the hospital because your condition was critical—Banner couldn't handle both of you at the same time."

Tony felt some of the tension drain from his body. He hated hospitals. And his friends knew that.

With a scowl, he tried to sit up, yanking the oxygen tube off his face.

"And what exactly do you think you're doing?" Rhodey asked, pushing him back against the pillows.

"What do you think?" Tony growled. "I'm sitting up, dammit. And then I'm getting the hell out of here."

Pepper pressed a button on the hospital bed, raising the headrest so he was in a more upright position. "Tony, we were worried sick about you. You were unconscious for three days. I really think you should stay here a little longer."

Tony stared at her, stunned. Three days?

He let Rhodey push him back down; he was too weak to resist anyway.

Instead, he changed the subject. "So, how were the honeymoon?" he asked while inspecting the various tubes and wires hooked up to him.

Pepper smiled. "Hawaii was beautiful. Thanks again for that." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. He smiled back at her.

If anyone deserved happiness, it was these two. They had gotten married three months ago, and Tony had gifted them a luxury trip to Hawaii. It was the least he could do for Pepper, who had taken over Stark Industries all on her own after he stepped away.

But still… he couldn't stay here.

Thyra was coming—with an army. They needed to act.

"I need to get out of here. I'm fine. Rhodey, we have to—"

His friend held up a hand, cutting him off.

"Relax, Tony. We know. We're already making preparations, even if S.H.I.E.L.D. is dragging its feet."

"How do you—Loki?" Tony whispered. He needed to see his god, to know he was okay.

"Yes," Rhodey confirmed. "Loki gave us a full report two days ago. I sent it straight to the general, and he's already put the Air Force on standby. We're just waiting on Fury now."

Pepper smiled knowingly at him, reading his mind like always.

"Don't worry about Loki," she assured him. "He was here two hours ago, and he looked a lot better than yesterday. Also, I'm really glad you two finally stopped dancing around each other. Even if it happened under… less-than-ideal circumstances, you're a perfect match. He's just as much of a pain in the ass as you are." She laughed. "Bruce is going to have a heart attack if Loki keeps teleporting in here to check on you instead of resting."

She gestured to the small bedside table, her smile turning fond.

Tony followed her gaze. Sitting there was a small bowl of blueberries.

His throat tightened, and he had to blink rapidly.

He loved blueberries.

Loki.

"Rhodey," Tony rasped, his eyes locked on the tiny offering. "Get a doctor. I'm discharging myself."

Rhodey let out a long-suffering sigh but didn't argue. He knew when he was fighting a losing battle.

"Fine, I'll get the doctor." He turned toward the door. "Pep, grab his stuff and call a car?"

Pepper nodded and turned away, giving Tony a moment to collect himself.

"Will you stay put? You're not well enough yet..." Bruce began.

"By the gods, Bruce, I swear I'll break your fingers before you stick anything anywhere near me!" Loki hissed, intercepting the syringe in his friend's hand mere inches from his arm. Before Bruce could protest, an amused knock on the doorframe interrupted them, followed by a deliberate throat clearing.

"Ahem. Bruce, I believe that particular duty falls to me from now on. Kindly step away from my god."

Both men spun around in shock. Standing in the doorway of the infirmary, grinning like he owned the place, was none other than his mortal.

"Anthony," Loki breathed, and in the next second, he was at the door, wrapping Tony in a firm embrace. "How do you feel?" he murmured against his lover's neck, inhaling his scent. He looked terribly fragile, unsteady even in Loki's arms.

"Significantly better now, babe," Tony responded gently, cupping Loki's face with both hands and pressing their foreheads together. "How about you?" he asked in return.

Loki exhaled deeply. Tony was worried about him, yet he was the one barely able to stand.

"I—AARGH, damn it, Bruce!"

Banner had stealthily closed the distance and, with the precision of a man on a mission, injected the syringe directly into Loki's backside.

"Hello, Tony. Figured you'd discharge yourself the moment you got the chance. That bed over there is yours, and while Loki is improving, he's still far from fully recovered. He should rest, but he's just as reckless as you are." With that, he pressed the plunger down, eliciting a furious hiss from Loki.

"What do you think you're doing?! I am a god, not a pincushion! No Midgardian medicine will have any effect on me—I've told you that countless times!" Loki grumbled, rubbing the offended spot. Surely, he was already bruising from the number of injections Bruce had forced upon him.

"And I've told you countless times that a booster shot won't hurt. Now stop whining and lie down before I call Thor to make you." Bruce shot back with an exasperated glare.

Loki narrowed his eyes at him, then flicked his fingers, making the two hospital beds slide together, forming a large double bed.

Bruce sighed dramatically. "Fine. Have it your way. But lie down and keep quiet. Tony, get over here. Did my colleague give you any discharge papers?"

Loki helped his beloved into bed before flopping onto it himself, arms crossed in defiance. He appreciated everything Bruce had done—his friend had saved his life alongside Thor—but this excessive fussing was grating on his nerves. Loki's magic was back, and his body was healing just fine without those blasted injections. All he needed was time.

Of course, he would never admit it to Bruce, but he still felt weak. The constant teleporting to Tony's side had drained him. But how could he have stayed away?

The moment he had regained consciousness and learned of Tony's critical condition, he had transported himself to his lover's bedside. The thought of losing him was unbearable.

As he observed Bruce tending to Tony with genuine care, his irritation melted away. Perhaps next time, he'd only break one of Bruce's fingers instead of all of them. He could be merciful, after all.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Loki?" Bruce asked, visibly uneasy, while Tony smirked knowingly.

"Babe, come on, be nice," Tony teased, settling beside Loki. "Did the mean doctor give you a shot? Want me to kiss it better?"

Loki shot him a withering glare.

"Okay, that's my cue to leave. You two are impossible. Tony, your vitals are stable, but you still need rest." Bruce gave him a pointed look.

"What?!" Tony protested innocently. "You think I'm just going to jump Loki the moment you leave? I can barely stand upright."

Bruce simply raised an eyebrow. "I know you, Tony."

Loki watched with amusement as his mortal turned a deep shade of red.

"Unbelievable," Tony muttered under his breath, but Bruce was already heading for the door.

"Goodnight, you two. I'll check on you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Bruce. And... thank you for everything, my friend," Loki called after him.

Bruce smiled at that, nodding before shutting the door behind him.

The moment it clicked shut, Loki found himself yanked into a demanding kiss. He melted into Tony's touch, allowing himself to be pulled onto his lover's lap, supporting himself on his elbows as he deepened the kiss.

They parted only when breath became a necessity. "I thought I lost you," Tony whispered against Loki's lips before trailing kisses down to his throat.

"Hmm, I am sorry for that, my love," Loki murmured, gasping when Tony nipped at his collarbone.

"Just don't ever do it again," came the murmured response, punctuated by more kisses.

"I shall try to avoid it, Anthony, but you need to rest..." Loki's voice hitched as hands slipped beneath his trousers, gripping his ass and pulling him closer.

"Damn, it's as firm as it looks," Tony groaned, fingers pressing possessively into Loki's skin. "And I was planning to rest. I just thought my personal healer might want to take a look at my... issue." He ground his hips against Loki's, a wicked smirk on his lips. "Besides, I think a blueberry got lost somewhere. Maybe you should check?"

Loki arched a skeptical brow but humored him, glancing downward. Tony's shirt had ridden up, exposing his navel. Loki chuckled. "Ah, I see the problem."

He hesitated. Was this truly the right moment? They had both barely survived, and Tony was still weak. Yet, he wanted him—needed him—like air to breathe. And in those brown eyes, he found the same longing reflected back at him.

"You're driving me crazy, babe," Tony murmured, eyes dark with desire. "Please..."

Loki straddled his lover's lap, feeling his arousal pressed against him. Slowly, he pulled off his own shirt, guiding Tony's hands to explore his bare chest, kissing him deeply. The gentle roll of his hips elicited a sharp inhale from Tony, whose fingers gripped Loki's waist impatiently.

Alright, he would be gentle.

With a flick of his fingers, Tony's shirt vanished, revealing the mischievous blueberry nestled in his navel. Loki let his gaze roam over his lover's form—toned but not exaggerated, like a Greek sculpture come to life. He smirked and took his time, letting Tony squirm beneath him before finally leaning down.

He placed his first kiss at the center of Tony's chest, trailing downward, never breaking eye contact. His hands traced soft patterns along Tony's sides, feeling every shudder he provoked. When he finally reached the navel, he circled it with his tongue, plucking the blueberry free.

That was all it took.

"Oh my God,"

Tony gasped, head thrown back, body arching into Loki's touch. A pleased smile curled on Loki's lips as he glided back up, brushing his nose over Tony's heated skin. With a smirk, he slipped the blueberry into Tony's mouth.

"Just call me Loki."

"Fuck, you bastard," Tony groaned between ragged breaths.

Loki grinned. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes..." And with that, he resumed his descent, intent on missing nothing this time.

Reaching Tony's navel, he jerked off his mortals pants and wrapped his hand around the man's sex. The sound that came out of Tony's mouth was music to his ears. His mortal looked at him with lust-filled eyes, silently begging him to continue. With one hand clutched in the sheet above him, the other in Loki's hair, he waited for him.

Loki slowly ran his thumb along the entire length, resting it on the tip. Tony's body shuddered and threw itself against him. When his mouth reached the groin, he bit lightly into the soft flesh before turning to the pressing problem.

He couldn't help but smile with satisfaction. It had been a while, but the sounds his mortal made told him that he hadn't forgotten anything.

As Tony trembled beneath him, utterly undone, Loki knew one thing for certain—he was exactly where he belonged.

It didn't take long for his mortal to dissolve under his touch.. Loki took everything he could get and finished by kissing the tip again. He slowly came back up again and looked questioningly down at his lover.

Tony appeared somewhat disheveled, and Loki hoped he hadn't overexerted him. Tony breathed heavily and stared at him incredulously.

"Damn, what... that was incredible," he managed to say, pulling Loki into a kiss. The man trembled all over, and Loki regarded him with mild concern.

"Did I overexert you, my love? Let me check," he said, placing his hand on Tony's chest, closing his eyes, and concentrating. He opened them in surprise and looked into an amused face.

"You don't see that many endorphins every day," he grinned, surprised. "So, you enjoyed it, did you?" In response, he received another kiss.

Loki could feel his mortal's deep exhaustion. With a wave of his hand, he dressed Tony in pajama pants and pulled him into his arms.

"Rest, my love, you're exhausted and need sleep," he said, spreading the blanket over them both and asking JARVIS to turn off the lights.

"But what about you?" Tony murmured at his side, snuggling into Loki's embrace. Soon after, he was asleep.

Loki kissed his forehead and drew his companion closer. He smiled into the darkness, thanked the gods for the man at his side, and drifted into sleep.

A soft green glow enveloped them as Loki's magic wove around their bodies, not just healing one, but both of them, ensuring they would always find their way back to each other.

Chapter 10 / Stallions, Girls, and Companions

Tony slowly surfaced from a deep sleep, rising to the edges of consciousness. He lay comfortably cocooned in warmth. The air smelled like a forest—no, like fresh pine needles, resin, leather, and a crisp, cold winter morning. The scent felt like home, even though Tony was not the outdoorsy type.

In truth, this gentle awakening was something unfamiliar to him. He was a restless sleeper, often plagued by nightmares and jolting awake in the morning. Most days, he dragged himself out of bed and could only get his body moving with a strong dose of coffee.

But this—this was new. And it was probably because of the warm body and the strong arms wrapped around him.

He didn't want to wake up. He was so tired, and his nest was so perfectly warm. He felt so safe, so completely at peace, that he almost wanted to purr like a cat. Had he ever felt this way before? Maybe as a child, in his mother's arms, he mused. For a brief moment, he thought he heard a sound, murmured words, but the thoughts faded as he drifted back toward sleep.

"My Love," a kiss at the corner of his mouth pulled him back toward wakefulness.

"Hmmm?" he murmured sleepily.

"Wake up, my love. I need to speak with my brother briefly, and Bruce would like to check on you," the soft voice whispered again.

He loved that voice. It was like music to his ears.

Loki.

He wrapped his arms around the warm body beside him and pulled the god closer, burying his face against his chest.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled. The chest beneath his face vibrated with laughter as his god stroked his hair tenderly.

"Anthony..."

Reluctantly, Tony emerged from his hiding place, blinking up at a smiling Loki.

"Fine, if I must. But I'm doing it under protest." He claimed his good morning kiss and let the god get up.

Yawning, he turned his gaze toward Thor and Bruce, who were standing in the doorway, grinning.

"Alright, Doc, do your thing, but no sharp needles, yeah?"

Bruce began measuring his blood pressure and instructed JARVIS to perform a full-body scan, while Loki walked over to his brother.

Tony perked up, discreetly listening in on the two gods.

"Asgard is prepared, brother. The Allfather has placed our forces on high alert and secured the borders. Mother sends this with her best wishes—she said it would help you create the portal."

Thor pressed a small amulet, hanging from a fine silver chain, into his brother's hand. Loki looked at it with a smile and closed his fingers around it.

"She worries too much," he mused.

"You do have a tendency to get yourself into trouble, little brother," Thor teased with a grin.

"As if that were my fault," Loki huffed indignantly, fastening the chain around his neck.

"Now we just need S.H.I.E.L.D. to secure Midgard's defenses," he considered.

"Fury won't be easy to convince. He's not exactly your biggest fan since New York," Thor pointed out.

"I know, but I have to try. If he refuses, we'll have to make do with the allies we have. The Captain has already forwarded my report to Wakanda and the Sanctum Sanctorum. They're awaiting further instructions, and I've personally spoken with Lt. Rhodes. Midgard's air force is also on high alert," Loki listed, looking at his brother with concern.

"The scan is complete, Doctor," JARVIS interrupted, drawing the brothers' attention back to the sickbed.

"How does it look?" Loki asked anxiously, stepping back to Tony's side and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Hmm," Bruce hummed. "Hmmm... How is that even possible? JARVIS, are you sure there's no error?"

He sounded baffled, which unsettled Tony. He felt just fine.

"The results are accurate, Doctor Banner. I have double-checked them," the AI confirmed.

"You're making me nervous, Doc. Is something wrong?" Tony asked, now concerned.

"No, no, everything seems to be in perfect order. In fact, you're healthier than you were before. How is that possible?"

Bruce looked from Tony to Loki, his expression turning into an annoyed scowl.

"Loki, we agreed you wouldn't use magic on Tony while you were still recovering. It drains too much of your energy, and we need you at full strength to fight the Majuta. JARVIS, perform a scan on Loki as well," he sighed, exasperated.

"But I didn't touch him, Bruce," Loki protested, clearly taken aback.

"Well, I wouldn't put it that way, babe," Tony smirked, thinking back to last night with satisfaction. It had been pure ecstasy—but Loki was right. He hadn't used magic on him. Not consciously, at least.

"What exactly about 'rest and recovery' did you two not understand?" Bruce asked, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"He really didn't do anything, Bruce. Don't get all worked up," Tony tried to soothe him.

"JARVIS, were there any unusual activities in this room last night? If so, show them to me," Bruce insisted.

"Uhh, yeah, no, you're not doing that, JARVIS. Damn it, Bruce, what is wrong with you?" Tony snapped, feeling heat creep up his face.

The gods, however, seemed thoroughly entertained by the argument, both grinning broadly.

"Apologies, Sir. There were unusual activities after you and Mr. Loki fell asleep," JARVIS reported.

Tony looked at his god in surprise. "Show us, JARVIS, and delete the hour before that, if you please."

All four turned toward the screen as the footage played. It showed Loki pulling Tony into an embrace, murmuring something before the lights went out. A short while later, a soft green glow filled the room. It radiated from Loki, surrounding them both. Nothing else happened.

Now, three pairs of eyes turned toward the resident god of mischief, questioning him.

Loki stood frozen, staring at the screen as it flickered away. He blinked, then, as he looked at Tony, a faint blush colored his cheeks. He looked absolutely breathtaking.

"Babe, what did you do?"

"I... that... um..." His god cast a helpless glance at his brother, who stared at him in silent astonishment. Apparently, Thor knew what was going on.

Loki cleared his throat and suddenly looked at Tony with deep affection.

"My magic seems to have recognized you as belonging to me. As if your body were a part of mine, do you understand? Since you were also injured, it healed not only me but both of us. I didn't notice because I was asleep. Please forgive me," he explained, pressing Tony's shoulder gently.

Tony placed his hand over Loki's.

"Hey, I'm not complaining, babe. I feel better than I have in a long time. Just a little tired, maybe," he added with a yawn.

He tried to play it cool, to act as if what he had just heard was no big deal. But inside, he was screaming with joy. This was the most beautiful declaration of love he had ever received. His heart raced, and his entire body tingled.

He hated to admit it, but Tony was insecure. A small part of him had feared he wouldn't be enough for the god. After all, he was just a man, just a mortal, only human.

He tried not to look at Loki like a lovesick teenager—and failed miserably.

Thor, mercifully, rescued him with a broad grin.

"Well, I guess fatigue is sometimes a side effect, right, brother?"

Gentle fingers brushed tenderly through his messy hair, and green eyes met his.

"Yes, indeed, but it will wear off in a few days."

Tony couldn't look away. To him, the moment stretched on forever.

This was the one true thing, the only thing that mattered: Loki looking at him, with one hand in his hair and the other on his shoulder. He wanted to hold on to this image, to capture every detail, every feeling, every touch, and carry it in his heart forever. He barely noticed his two friends slipping out of the room. He had eyes only for his god.

"Come here," he finally whispered, losing himself in his companion's arms.

"Can you bring us upstairs, babe? This bed here is so damn uncomfortable," Tony whispered breathlessly against Loki's lips. Seconds later, he was placed on the soft double bed in his room.

"And what exactly are you planning now, my love?" Loki teased.

"Hmmm, I didn't have a chance to return the favor yesterday. Today it's your turn, babe, come here." He rolled them both over so he was now on top and sat up. First, he decided, all that unnecessary clothing had to go.

So he got to work, covering his god from head to toe with alluring kisses.

He was a little nervous. Sure, he had been in bed with men before, but he had always been the giver, not the receiver. But since yesterday he had an urgent need to be royally fucked by his Asgardian prince. This prince was currently lounging under him with pleasure, following his every movement with green eyes narrowed to slits.

As Tony's mouth approached Loki's south pole, he groaned loudly and bit his bottom lip. The sight drove Tony crazy. He would eat this man alive here and now.

With that thought, he wrapped his mouth around Loki. He had never done this before, but had enjoyed it often enough himself. Tony Stark knew what felt good.

It was both satisfying and arousing to hear the sounds which he was able to coax out of Loki with his mouth. With Tony's name on his lips, his god finally climaxed, shaking and trembling with ecstasy. After swallowing everything his god had given him, Tony sat back up and fished for his bedside drawer.

"Wha... what are you doing?" gasped Loki.

Tony licked his lips. "Oh, I'm not done with you yet, babe." With that he applied lube to two of his fingers. He remembered that the men always stretched before letting him go for it.

Given Loki's girth, two fingers probably wouldn't be enough. After a moment's thought, he wet a third finger and grinned mischievously at his astonished god.

"What's the point of having a stallion in my stable if I never ride him?"

Loki's eyes widened.

"Ohhh, we're bold today," he finally purred, and Tony could see the lust in those green eyes.

He would go through with this. He wanted it. He wanted Loki

"Shall I give you a hand, love?" Loki sat up, put one arm around Tony's back and helped him find the right position with the other. "One by one. Try to relax," he whispered into his neck. Loki's arousal was now pressing against his own, and those lips on his neck weren't making it easy to think clearly.

"Hmm, I can't concentrate like this, babe," Tony whispered, pressing the first finger to his entrance.

It was a strange feeling, uncomfortable at first, but the deeper he went, the more arousing it was. The second finger... wasn't his, and he let out a surprised groan.

This second finger had far more knowledge of what it was doing than the first one. Loki kissed and nibbled on his neck and pushed another finger inside him. Giving up, Tony withdrew his own hand and clung to his God instead.

He gave himself completely to this new feeling. Loki hit exactly the spot with his elegant, long fingers... Fuck.

When he couldn't take it anymore, he stopped Loki and pushed him back into the pillows. He positioned himself and slowly let the god slide inside him.

Loki watched him closely as he adjusted to the size. Tony gave him a flirtatious wink. Then he began to move and small fireworks began to rage in his head.

He held his breath for a moment. It was a strange feeling - not just physically, but deep within him. How could someone who seemed so powerful and aloof be so gentle and cautious at the same time? Tony felt himself opening up, not just to Loki, but to all the insecurities that came with it. He was used to being in control in every aspect of his life. But now? Now he let go. And as the pain subsided and the feeling of warmth and closeness increased, he realized that he was giving this man, his God, something he had never given anyone else before —his trust.

Fuck. That...that felt damn good. Loki arched beneath him, breathing heavily, and placed his hands on Tony's hips. Tony set the pace and started a steady rhythm.

Sweat was already running down his back in a tickling trickle. He moaned loudly as Loki took his erection in his hand and began pumping him in a fast rhythm. He couldn't take it anymore. He fell forward, panting and breathing heavily.

He kissed his god, looked deep into his eyes and whispered, "I want you to fuck me."

A jolt went through the body beneath him, and Tony felt as if he had unleashed a greater power with his words. But he didn't have time to think about it much; a heartbeat later Loki had grabbed him and thrown him around in one fluid motion.

He pushed his back into the pillows and Tony wrapped his legs around the god's hips. Loki penetrated him again, agonizingly slowly. Tony looked at his lover and confirmed with a slight nod that everything was okay. And then the world ceased to exist. Loki was upon him, and he was not a man, he was not a god, he was a force of nature. Tony stopped resisting and let himself fall into the swirl of pleasure and ecstasy. They were beyond all limits, two twitching, moaning bodies.

They were one.

"Loki, hmmm," Tony pleaded when he couldn't take it anymore. "Haahh, babe, come... cum for me. Hmm."

His words were followed by a tremor that seemed to spread to his body. With two more hard, deep thrusts that set off more fireworks in Tony, Loki sent them both over the edge.

His climax was overwhelming and with a scream, Tony spilled himself violently onto both of their chests. Loki bit his shoulder almost painfully as he rode out his own orgasm with wild thrusts. Then his god collapsed on top of him.

Tony barely felt it. He felt the aftershock throughout his body and it drove him crazy. He had never experienced anything like this before and the feelings threatened to overwhelm him. He buried his face in Loki's neck.

With all the strength he had left, he lifted his leaden arms and wrapped them around his god.

He clung to Loki, just like in captivity—but this time not out of desperation, fear, or pain, but from the desire to never let him go.

Tony wanted to be one with his beloved.

Loki returned the gesture and pressed himself even closer, pinning him to the soft mattress and covering him with his body. He shielded him from all evil, just like he had done on the Majuta ship.

Again, that overwhelming feeling of comfort and safety washed over Tony. If the world were to end now, nothing could harm him, because Loki was with him.

Tony squinted and blinked hard to drive away the burning sensation. What was going on with him lately, that he was so emotionally fragile? He was Iron Man, he didn't cry.

Loki loosened his grip a bit and asked in a rough voice, "Did I hurt you, my love? I'm sorry, I may have let myself go a bit."

Tony swallowed hard. Where was he supposed to start? Loki hadn't hurt him; on the contrary.

"No, babe," he croaked. "You just fucked me into nirvana." He couldn't find words for what he felt. So he decided to express his feelings with a kiss.

"Ohh, mhh, so Nirvana means something good, right?" Loki finally grinned.

"Hmmmm, I believe you call it Valhalla? It means to reach paradise or a state of perfection. Anyway, you have my official permission to do that again anytime, anywhere."

His god chuckled softly. "As you wish, man of iron." With a kiss and a wink, he added, "Would you like to join me in the shower?"

Tony shook his head, laughing. "You're going to have to carry me, I can't feel my legs anymore..."

"What do you think?" asked his mortal, drawing small circles on his chest under the water.

Loki lay stretched out, his back resting against Tony's chest, in the warm water of the hot tub. He was snapped out of his thoughts.

"Hmm," he replied innocently.

"I'd really like to know what's going on in that pretty head of yours, babe," Tony whispered, nibbling at his neck.

"It's nothing, my Love," Loki lied, keeping his gaze fixed on the sleeping city below.

The hot tub was set in a truly spectacular location: hundreds of meters above the city, on a hidden balcony of Stark Tower. But the man who had placed it there was none other than Tony Stark—spectacular in every way.

Two days ago, his mortal had confessed that he was worried. Loki had already noticed: Tony was more sentimental than usual, his emotions often raw. Sometimes, even a simple loving word from Loki would bring him to tears.

He'd already discussed it with Banner. And the Doc had agreed. They were now monitoring Tony with regular brain scans. Loki feared that Thyra's intrusion into Tony's mind had caused more damage than they had previously realized.

Or was the cause something else?

A soft, nasty voice in his mind whispered: It was never real.

Why would anyone ever love him?

He had convinced himself there had been small signs—touches, shared hours in the workshop, that evening after Pepper and Rhodey's wedding.

But Tony had been drunk.

Sober, he would have never touched you.

A painful lump formed in Loki's throat.

You're a monster. A frost giant. Your true form would disgust him. You're not worth it.

A tortured groan escaped him as he rubbed his eyes. Then, he pushed away from Tony and dove beneath the surface. He sank to the bottom.

His chest tightened, and a dull throb pulsed in his head. If this was just another game, then... then this would be his end. He wouldn't survive it again.

Loki opened his eyes underwater. The burning in his lungs was irrelevant.

It was quiet down here. He could just stay here and...

A strong grip tore him from the silence and pulled him back from the whirlpool of dark thoughts.

Gasping, he broke the surface—and found himself looking into concerned brown eyes.

"Okay, now that you've failed to drown yourself in my hot tub, could you please talk to me, babe?" Tony asked, his voice gentle but firm.

Loki couldn't meet his gaze.

"This isn't still about the thing from two days ago, is it?" Tony pulled him close, cupping his face in both hands.

Loki swallowed.

"It's about this thing," Tony stated without waiting for an answer.

"Listen to me, babe. I'm fine. Bruce scanned me, you've checked me—nothing. Nothing except this damn love for you."

Loki only stared at him.

Tony continued quietly, "I talked to Pepper. Thought maybe a woman would understand this whole feelings thing better than I do. And she had a simple explanation. Want to hear it?"

Loki nodded silently. What was he about to hear?

"She said I'm in love. But you know what? She's wrong."

Loki's heartbeat faltered, and he braced himself for the blow. He had known it. It was all a lie.

"She's wrong, because I'm not just in love with you. I'm completely and utterly yours."

Tony's cheeks flushed, but his eyes burned with sincerity.

"I love you, Loki Odinson. Not a little. Not maybe. Completely. And if you don't believe me, I don't know how else I can prove it."

Loki couldn't breathe. What?

"None of this is a lie," Tony said. "None of this is Thyra. It's just me." He smiled faintly. "To be honest, I've been into you from the moment I met you. I mean, have you seen your ass?"

Loki laughed in disbelief.

"I was just too cowardly to admit it," Tony continued. "But you drive me crazy. No one else. Do you hear me?" He gently stroked Loki's cheek.

Loki fought back tears.

"I know this is all happening too fast. Zero to a hundred in two weeks. But it feels so right. Like I've always belonged by your side," Tony whispered.

"Normally, I don't let anyone get this close. Bad experiences and all..."

Tony swallowed. "But you tear down every wall. You see me for who I am."

Loki could have screamed with happiness. Tony loved him. It was real.

But then Tony said something that caught Loki completely off guard.

"How could you think this was all a lie? How could anyone fake such feelings? Unless you enchanted me." He chuckled softly—completely unaware of how Loki froze.

Seconds later, Loki pulled back slightly.

Tony furrowed his brow. "Babe?"

"My magic has nothing to do with this," Loki said quietly. A dark shadow crossed his face. "Otherwise... otherwise it wouldn't be real, my love."

Tony looked at him with a searching gaze, brushing a strand of hair from Loki's eyes. "I'm sorry, babe. Has this happened to you before?"

Loki looked away. The memory of old scars, old deceptions, old humiliations was too painful. He didn't want to talk about it.

Tony seemed to understand. He rested his forehead against Loki's and simply said, "You don't have to talk about it. You just have to know that this is real, babe."

Loki sank into his arms. The dark voice in his head finally fell silent. "I was afraid it was all a lie…" he croaked.

"I figured. But it wasn't. I love you."

Then Tony kissed him—and everything else became irrelevant. The world ceased to exist.

Loki knew with absolute certainty now that his mortal loved him.

His magic had sensed it back then, when it had unknowingly woven a bond between them. When it had marked Tony as his mate.

He had to tell him. Someday. Later.

Right now, he just wanted to touch him, feel him. His mortal.

"So... you're the girl in this relationship?" Loki grinned as they pulled apart, both breathless.

Tony glared at him.

"Say that again, and I'll undo it."

Loki laughed. "Oh, forgive me. The Prince of Asgard asks his Queen for mercy."

Tony's eyes sparkled challengingly. "You asked for it."

He pressed a button, and the jets of the hot tub sprang to life.

Then he shoved Loki toward the poolside, showing him that he was definitely not the girl in this relationship.

„He won't believe you." Tony had said it to his god countless times, but Loki remained stubborn.

"I have to try, Anthony. It's been over a week since our escape. We've made some allies, but we need S.H.I.E.L.D. I must try to convince the Director." Tony knew there was no point in arguing further. Loki was just as stubborn as he was.

Steve and Loki had explained the plan to him, the one they had come up with while he was unconscious after escaping from Thyra. They wanted to stop the enemy ships before a single Majuta set a clawed foot on Earth—or Asgard.

Thor had already sorted out Asgard's defense with the Allfather and planned to fight on Midgard with the Avengers. He was also supposed to act as bait for Thyra.

Tony was impressed with Loki's ability to find allies. He had already gained the support of Wakanda, Rhodey, the US Air Force, Dr. Strange, and his Sanctum Sanctorum.

Tony had read the report his companion had written shortly after the nightmare. His heart had nearly broke. Loki had described the events in a calm tone, detailing everything that had happened since their abduction from the Stark Tower rooftop, including the torture and the attempts to extract information.

Because of this report and the impending danger to both worlds, everyone had gone on high alert, waiting for a sign in the sky.

Everyone except S.H.I.E.L.D. and Nick Fury.

"Then let me come with you. I've known the one-eyed bastard longer than you!" Tony pushed again, not for the first time.

He got the same answer as always: "No, you stay here, my love. If he doesn't believe my words and ignores the Captain, Natasha, and Clint as well, I don't see how you could convince him. Your mind is still healing. Thyra took a heavy toll on you, even though you would never admit it. I know. You need rest, not a heated argument with Nick Fury," Loki said firmly.

Tony glared at him angrily. His god was right; Thyra hadn't manipulated his feelings, but she had weakened him. Tony still found it hard to concentrate on anything—well, anything other than his god, to be honest. Everything that concerned Loki was crystal clear, everything else blurred. It felt like recovering from a bad flu. And his god was right when he said Tony would never admit it.

"But..." Tony started, only to be silenced by a swift kiss.

"You stay here, and Thor will watch over you so you don't do anything foolish," Loki said curtly, winking at him.

"I'm not a kid! I don't need a babysitter!" Tony pouted.

"I hope not, Stark. I don't change diapers." Thor placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, grinning.

"Now that this is settled, I'll be on my way," Loki finished the discussion with a smile. He blew Tony a farewell kiss before elegantly vanishing into thin air.

The bastard teleported away before Tony could even think of another counterargument.

Oh, just wait until you get back home... he thought angrily. He stopped for a moment, then involuntarily smiled. Yes, home—that's what they were to each other, he realized.

"You two seem very familiar with each other," Thor broke him from his thoughts.

Tony turned to the thunder god. "What do you mean?" he asked, surprised.

"Well, you bicker like an old married couple," Thor laughed, and Tony shook his head angrily, rolling his eyes.

"Are you even aware of how much you mean to him, Stark?" he added seriously a moment later.

Tony perked up and looked at Thor curiously. "Let's sit down and discuss this over a glass of whiskey."

As they both sat on the cozy sofas in the common room, Thor cleared his throat and looked thoughtfully into his glass.

"I've rarely seen my little brother happy, Stark. He's always been closed off. But when he's around you, he practically blooms."

He looked directly at Tony.

"I don't think he's ever looked at anyone like he looks at you, Stark."

Tony swallowed and gripped his glass tightly. "When I saw him defend you against those Chitauri, I knew. He would've died for you in that moment, Stark. I've only seen my brother do that twice."

Thor took a large gulp and stared into the distance. "The first time was in the battle on Vanaheim. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough, and Loki had to watch as his companion fell." Tony's eyes widened in shock. Loki had never told him that.

"The second time was during a smaller raid by the Frost Giants on Asgard. They broke into the palace, but we managed to push them back. His companion at the time was also a sorceress, I don't know if he ever mentioned her." Tony just shook his head.

"What happened, Thor?" he asked, looking at the god intently.

"She betrayed him," Thor said quietly, swallowing hard. "I was there when he found out. He didn't want to believe it. My brother tormented himself with self-blame. She... she was one of the few he had trusted completely, and it turned out she'd been lying to him the entire time."

He took another large sip. "There's more than one way to get to Asgard, Stark, and my brother knows them all. Anyway, she wanted to overthrow the Allfather and claim the throne for herself, so she had to allow the Frost Giants into the palace. When it failed, she revealed her betrayal and broke my brother's heart." Thor finished sadly.

"She faked her feelings for him? With magic?" Tony asked, just to be sure. When Thor nodded, Tony understood something. My magic has nothing to do with this. Then... then it wouldn't be real, my love. He swallowed hard. "Oh man, that's some shit. That bitch! I'd love to strangle her!" he growled quietly.

Thor had been watching him closely and now gave him a broad smile before continuing seriously. "Already happened, Stark. In Asgard, the punishment for high treason is death."

Fuck! So Loki had watched two of his lovers die? Betrayal or not, for Loki, it had been real, and watching his companion be executed must have been horrific.

"Did... did he watch it happen?" He had to know.

"No." Thor looked at him somberly. "My brother retreated to the library that day and didn't come out until three weeks later." His expression darkened as he recalled that time. Tony could see the pain in his blue eyes. He knew that Thor loved his brother deeply. It must have been terrible for him to watch him suffer like that.

"It was a dark time for him. I believe he swore to never let anyone get close to him again. But in our case, that's a damn long time," the god said bitterly.

Tony nodded, understanding what Thor meant. It could be incredibly lonely when you decided to shut yourself off from everything and everyone. Pushing everyone away—friends, family, lovers. Tony knew that from his own experience. He'd reacted the same way after Afghanistan and the betrayal.

"Why are you telling me this, Big Guy?" he asked when his glass was empty.

"I guess I wanted to make sure you feel the same for my brother as he does for you, Stark. Loki loves you very much. I don't want to see him hurt like that again," Thor said, looking at Tony expectantly.

That unspoken demand for confirmation could only be answered in one way, Tony thought. He straightened up and looked Thor firmly in the eyes.

"I love your brother deeply, and I would die for him at any moment, just like he would for me. We belong together, and I won't let anything come between us. Is that enough for you?"

Thor studied him for a long moment, then nodded slightly. The tension in the room evaporated, and Tony allowed himself to relax for a moment.

A few minutes later, an idea struck him.

"JARVIS, can you hack into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s briefing room and show us what's going on?"

"One moment, Sir." A few minutes later, a live stream of the briefing room appeared.

Thor and Tony watched intently for exactly 20 minutes before they decided it was time to help Loki convince that one-eyed bastard. They set off for S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters.

Chapter 11 / The Deep Fall

Present - The Battle of New York 2.0

"Everyone, I'm starting the portal now, hold your positions for a moment longer. On my command, you'll all pull the 'ripcord' and get to safety. Stick to the plan, I don't want any casualties." Loki waited for his allies' response, and when the reassuring "Roger" came from all sides, he got to work.

He closed his eyes and began to build the portal that would send the Majuta's ship to the other end of the universe. A crackling, green glowing rift formed in the air and slowly grew into a larger oval. On the other side, there was only darkness, the vastness of space. Loki placed an anchor point right into that darkness. Now all that was left was the anchor point in this world and one final push to send the ship out of this world.

He faintly sensed that Thor and Tony were covering his back. The Majutas seemed to have noticed that something was happening, as they charged at his two defenders. Loki dropped to one knee and placed one hand on the ground, setting the anchor point on the ship.

"Everyone get ready," he said into the comms and continued murmuring his incantation. The timing was critical; he hoped everything would go smoothly and they wouldn't have any casualties due to his spell.

Now, he was ready.

"Now!" he shouted into the comms.

"Ripcord, ripcord, retreat!"

He felt a series of energy signatures being triggered, which he recognized as his own. The retreat was going according to plan.

He channeled magic into the anchor point in space, and the ship began to jerk into motion. It was working!

"Loki! We need to get out of here!"

He felt himself being grabbed by metallic arms and lifted up.

"No, wait! It needs just a little more!" he screamed, but it was too late. He was already being carried into the air by Iron Man.

"Do that from here, babe. Why do you have to be right in the line of fire?" his companion asked angrily.

He was right, he could initiate the final push from here.

"Is everyone safe?" he called into the comms.

"Roger, Loki. Take them out!" came Captain America's voice, and Loki raised his hands for the final strike.

He sent another spell through the portal, and the oval glowed brighter. The anchor grabbed, and with a shimmer and a loud whoosh, the spaceship disappeared from the sky. Loki collapsed the portal with one final burst of effort. They watched with satisfaction as the oval shrank and finally vanished.

"You did it, babe, I'm proud of you."

That sentence didn't come through the comms but was whispered in his ear. Tony had lifted his visor and smiled at him. Loki turned as best as he could in his arms and kissed his mortal.

"Will you take me to Thyra, my love? We have something to finish there." He received another kiss in reply and felt them lose height.

Thyra had left the spaceship when the battle began but hadn't gone too far. She had chosen Governors Island as her vantage point for her portal, with a view of the Statue of Liberty and New York City.

The Sanctum Sanctorum's ground troops hadn't been able to stop her as she had summoned some kind of force field. Strange watched tensely as Iron Man began to land.

"She's surrounded. We've tried a lot but can't get through the force field. Any suggestions?" Strange greeted Loki.

Loki gazed at the ominously glowing red portal for a moment before focusing on the flickering shield.

She can't possibly have enough power to fuel both, Loki thought. So where is all this energy coming from?

"Is she using rune stones?" Thor asked, who had just landed beside the three men and looked at his brother questioningly.

That was Loki's idea as well.

Rune stones were a proven method of creating force fields for the protection of one's troops in battle. They were charged with magic, which could then be released with a simple incantation when needed.

The two gods looked around, and sure enough: "Yes! Look there!" Loki pointed to three large stones arranged in a pyramid shape around Thyra. They glowed a ghostly red and seemed to pulse.

"Dr. Strange, have your fighters target the stones, that's the weak point!" The sorcerer nodded briefly and rushed off to instruct his men.

"Are you ready, brother?" Loki asked. Thor stepped to his side and nodded. They had discussed how to stop Thyra. Using Thor as bait had been his own idea. He wanted to lull her into a false sense of security and then overwhelm her with Loki's help.

Before the two brothers could take a step forward, Loki felt a hand restrain him.

"I don't like this, Loki, I have a really bad feeling about this." He turned to his companion and saw the worried expression on Tony's face.

"I know, Anthony, but she's lost control and is tearing your world apart with that portal. We have to act now."

Tony let go of him and put on his stubborn face. Loki knew what was coming next, and sure enough: "I'm coming with you, no argument."

Iron Man lowered his visor and walked past the two gods toward Thyra's portal.

"What are you waiting for? I have no idea what I'm doing here."

Loki rolled his eyes and hurried after his companion. The man would get himself killed if he wasn't careful. He had rarely met someone so self-destructive.

"You two are a perfect match, he's just as impossible as you are!" Thor growled at his side, and Loki couldn't help but laugh.

"Do you still have enough energy to stop her?" Thor asked.

"I hope so. If not, I still have mother's amulet." The three men neared one of the rune stones. Loki could already feel the force field's energy fluctuating. He channeled some more magic into it, and eventually, it gave way.

"Strange, darling, do us a favor and get rid of these things," Iron Man said into the comms.

"Still Doctor for you!" Strange hissed.

"Doctor Who?" Tony joked, but Loki could feel how tense his companion was.

They had had a heated argument yesterday about the risky plan the two gods had. Loki had insisted on going alone with Thor, so as not to put anyone else, especially Tony, in unnecessary danger.

If it had been up to his mortal, the whole team, including all their allies, would have been there with him now.

"You're the only one who can stop her when it comes to magic, you need to be protected at all costs!" Tony had shouted in the end.

"I... I can't... you can't... this is a stupid plan!" Loki had tried to calm him down, but the inventor had jumped up and started pacing in the common room. Everyone had tried to calm him down.

"Tony, the mages from the Sanctum Sanctorum and Dr. Strange will also be there, Thor and Loki won't be alone with Thyra," Bruce had pointed out.

"So what?" Tony had retorted, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Those guys have no idea about the magic Thyra is using. You said that yourself," the last part was aimed at Loki.

"Tony, we can't leave the whole city unprotected just to cover one person. You know as well as I do that that would be nonsense," Steve had said.

"He couldn't even move with everyone around him, Stark. Thyra needs to see the two of them for it to work," Clint had pointed out.

"Bullshit! This is all bullshit!" Tony had stormed out of the room angrily.

"He really seems to be worried about you, Loki. Is that concern justified?" Natasha had asked in the ensuing silence. Loki had looked seriously around the room.

"A fight is always a risk, but I don't think Thyra is superior to me. Personally, I consider the danger to Thor much higher. If she touches him and manages to enchant him, we've got a real problem. If you'll excuse me now, I want to check on him."

He had found his mortal on one of the Stark Tower's rooftops. Tony's anger had evaporated when he turned to Loki.

"I don't want to lose you, babe," was all he had said before sinking into Loki's outstretched arms.

Dr. Strange snapped him out of his thoughts. "The portal looks unstable." Loki looked up and saw that the Doctor was right.

Thyra stood with her back to them, relentlessly channeling energy into the glowing red portal. Its edges were already beginning to fray, a bad sign. Loki could feel the pulsing power emanating from it. The four men looked down as the ground trembled and small cracks appeared in the earth. Not good!

"Thor," Loki said calmly, still watching the cracks in the ground. He would have liked to run away. This was about to get very unpleasant.

"Thyra, my dear, there you are at last! I've waited so long for you!" his brother called through the roar of the portal. With arms wide open, he walked toward the sorceress. His voice seemed to break through her trance, and she turned toward them.

Not good!

Thyra's face twisted into a grotesque mask of madness. Her blue eyes sparkled with insanity, and she bared her teeth. When she saw Thor, she staggered toward him.

"Oh, my beloved," she extended her hands toward him. "There you are! I've been searching for you. Look, the gate to our new home is almost finished! Come to me."

Thor took a step toward her, but instead of taking her hands, he threw Mjölnir. The hammer struck her directly in the chest, knocking her off her feet. That seemed to break her trance completely, because in the next moment, there stood the Thyra Loki knew.

"You bastard! You've corrupted him!" she screamed at him, picking herself up and opening fire.

Loki blocked the magical wave and countered. He felt the static crackle of Thor's lightning beside him, but the sorceress dodged the deadly blows. When one of Loki's daggers finally hit its mark, she hissed.

"I wanted you by my side, warlord! You betrayed me! For that, you will die!" She attacked the gods again. The distraction gave Dr. Strange enough time to conjure a magically glowing rope.

He shot it forward, and it hit Thyra's arm. The rope wrapped around it, and with a sharp pull, he threw her off balance. Enraged, she conjured a series of daggers and hurled them at the sorcerer. With a dull thud, they bounced off Tony's Iron Man suit.

His brave companion had thrown himself between Strange and the danger. "I'll try to get behind her," he said into the comms.

"Anthony, no..." Loki called, but it was too late. Iron Man was in the air, and Thyra saw him coming. Loki watched in horror as his companion was ripped from the air by magic and hurled to the ground. NO!

"Ah, the prince's toy!" Thyra laughed. "This time, you'll really die!" She raised her magic-empowered fist and hammered it down onto the suit.

Loki had already moved and was with her a second later. With a brutal jerk, he yanked her back and threw her across the grass. When he saw that Iron Man was already getting back up, he gave chase.

"This ends now, Thyra," he shouted angrily at her. He would not allow her to touch Tony again. "You've lost control!" She just laughed at him.

"Oh yes, prince? Give me your brother, and your wish will be granted," she charged at him again with a wave of energy. Loki tried to block but was knocked off his feet. The impact knocked the breath out of his lungs, and he rolled over, gasping for air, then froze.

He had landed right in front of the portal, his nose only inches from another rune stone. So this is how she fed it power. If he could destroy it, would that be enough to close the portal? It was worth a try.

"Thor! Destroy it!" he yelled to his brother, pointing at the stone.

The thunder god understood and rose into the air. Mjölnir spun in his hand. With a loud crash, he hurled it down onto the stone. Loki teleported out of the impact zone and watched from ten meters away as the stone in front of the portal shattered into a thousand pieces.

Thyra screamed as her portal began to flicker uncontrollably. "What have you done! That was the anchor stone in this world!" She stormed toward her portal but was stopped by Iron Man, who landed right in front of her on the grass.

His mortal companion raised his hand and sent an energy blast into Thyra's chest, knocking her to the ground. "That was for Loki," he said grimly, firing again. "And this is for me." He fired again. "And this is for Earth, you bitch."

Loki watched the scene and thought furiously. The anchor stone in this world? Could it be...,

Time seemed to slow down. Loki had a dreadful feeling that something terribly wrong was about to happen.

In slow motion, he watched as Iron Man was thrown to the ground by the sorceress with a wave of energy. An icy hand gripped Loki's heart and squeezed the air out of him.

Thyra was back on her feet, blood running from her chest. In a frenzy, she walked toward his mortal companion and ripped the visor from his face. They were right in front of the collapsing portal. His brother and Dr. Strange rushed forward to help.

They wouldn't make it, he realized, and they were heading into mortal danger. No, no, NO!

Time snapped back to normal speed, and Loki knew what he had to do. He had known the moment he heard Thyra say the word anchor stone.

He would end this now. Saving Midgard was only a secondary concern. Anthony, Thor. Those two were the most important to him. He would do whatever it took to protect them. His brother would take care of Anthony, he was sure of that.

Breathing heavily, he closed his eyes and teleported to the sorceress's side.

He wrapped an arm around Thyra's waist and simply lifted her away from Anthony. His mortal companion, his love, his partner.

With his other hand, he ripped his mother's amulet from his neck and looked Tony firmly in the eyes.

"Ek ann þér, Anthony. I'm sorry."

In Tony's bloody face, Loki could see the realization, and soon after, the horror as Tony understood what Loki was about to do.

"NO..." he screamed, but Loki had already made a gesture and sent his lover out of the danger zone with a wave of energy.

He could still see the wave catch Thor and Dr. Strange as well, carrying them to safety. Then, with Thyra in his arms, he fell back into the collapsing portal.

Tony had been thrown twenty meters through the air and hit the ground hard. He heard two more heavy thuds beside him and guessed that Thor and Dr. Strange had just landed next to him. He barely managed to look up in time and saw his god, Loki, plunging into the portal with Thyra. His whole body went numb.

"NO, LOKI!" He activated his thrusters and was halfway there when the portal slammed shut with a loud bang. The shockwave threw him back to where he had just come from.

"Brother," Thor gasped beside him. "No, brother!"

Tony stayed on his back, staring at the sky. That hadn't just happened, this was just a bad dream. Any moment now, his god would wake him up.

"Stark, are you hurt?" Dr. Strange leaned over him, and Tony shook his head. Not a dream, but Loki would surely appear by his side any moment now, teleporting here from wherever. Tony just had to wait, his god would come, he had promised.

"Ek ann þér, Anthony. I'm sorry." No! Those hadn't been farewell words! No!

Strange extended a hand and helped him up. His whole body ached, but he still limped toward Thor, who was kneeling at the spot where the portal had been. Now, there was only scorched earth and deep cracks in a ten-meter radius. He sank to his knees beside Thor and dug the suit's metallic fingers into the ground. He trembled, and a coldness sank into his chest.

"I failed," the thunder god whispered next to him. "I lost him, I..." His voice broke, and he looked at Tony. The pain in Thor's eyes hit Tony like a punch to his gut. He gasped desperately for air and fell backward, trying to crawl away from the god and the truth.

"No, no, stop... he's... he's not... NO!" He could hear voices, footsteps approaching.

"Friend Stark..." Thor reached out to him.

"HE'S NOT DEAD!" Tony screamed, trembling as he stood.

"Ek ann þér, Anthony. I'm sorry."

"He's not dead," he whispered, shooting up into the air. He had to get away from here, he had to find Loki, he had to... had to...

Tony flew on, memories and images of Loki flooding his mind in an endless tide.

He wasn't gone. It couldn't be. Tony couldn't lose the one he had waited for his whole life. He needed him like air to breathe. He had to find him and bring him home. He couldn't fail, not in this one thing. Tears blurred his vision, but he kept flying.

After endless hours, he finally landed again on Governors Island and knelt at the spot where the portal had disappeared. He would simply wait here until his companion reappeared.

He didn't respond to the footsteps approaching him. He felt dazed, numb. His body was nothing but an empty shell. Only when a hand settled on his shoulder did he look up.

"Stark, he won't be coming back..." said Doctor Strange.

"At least not as quickly as you hope," he quickly added when he noticed the angry gleam in Tony's eyes. "What I mean is, I think this portal didn't just lead to another place in the universe. I think it led to some kind of parallel world. If that's the case, it would make Loki's return much harder."

That was interesting and made Tony's hope grow. "You think he's still alive? Can you find him?"

Strange looked at him sadly. "I don't know, Stark, but I hope so." He then raised one hand and made a circular motion with the other to create one of his own portals.

"Come, I'll take you home." This time, Tony let himself be pulled along without resistance.

"Where is he?" Pepper looked around the common room. Bruce and Clint glanced up from the documents scattered across the table.

Just over a month ago, Loki had fallen through the portal with Thyra and disappeared. Since then, the Avengers, along with a few allies, had been trying to locate the God of Lies and Mischief—with little success.

The more time passed, the more likely it seemed that there would be no return. And Tony? Tony was broken. At least, that was the word Bruce had used when he called her this morning.

"He needs you, Pep. He needs someone to hold onto." Bruce had sighed deeply. "At first, he was obsessed with finding some clue about Loki, but for the past week... He... he doesn't sleep, he doesn't eat, he refuses everything except alcohol. I don't know what to do anymore. You've known him for so long. Can you check on him, please?"

She had set out immediately. The entire drive, she had blamed herself. Why hadn't she come in person more often instead of just calling? Tony had always been good at pretending over the phone.

Now, she looked at the two men questioningly and repeated her question: "Where is he?" Bruce stood up and walked toward her.

"He's barricading himself in the workshop," he said, embracing her in greeting. "Good that you're here. Maybe you can convince him to open the door."

Pepper hesitated. "What do you mean? JARVIS won't open for you?"

Clint stepped up beside Bruce, looking just as exhausted as the doctor. "He downgraded our security clearances and won't let anyone near him. When we knock on the door, he just turns the music up louder. Once, he even sent one of the suits after us."

She was stunned; she hadn't known it was this bad. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, Miss Potts," the AI responded.

"Is that true about the security clearance?" she asked.

"Yes, it is correct that the security clearance for Mr. Barton, Mr. Rogers, Miss Romanoff, and Dr. Banner has been changed. Your status, Miss Potts, remains unchanged, and I would ask you to check on Mr. Stark. His mental state appears critical."

The three of them looked at each other, startled. Was JARVIS actually worried? Was that even possible for an artificial intelligence? "I'm on my way, JARVIS. Please unlock the door to the workshop."

With the two men following, she headed off. "What the hell happened last week?" she asked as they waited for the elevator.

Bruce uncomfortably wiped his glasses on his T-shirt. "Well, first Fury, then Steve, and the worst was probably Thor."

Pepper raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate, Bruce?" He seemed reluctant to talk about it. Eventually, Clint answered:

"The director was never a big fan of Loki, you know that." She nodded. "After a week, he called off the search. Honestly, I think he's glad Loki is gone and that he didn't have to get his hands dirty." The archer scowled. "He suspended Nat and me because we refused to stop looking. Whatever. But Steve, weirdly enough, sided with Fury. He wanted Stark to accept that Loki is dead."

Pepper flinched at the word and looked at Barton in shock.

"Don't look at me like that, it's Steve who believes that, not me. Anyway, Stark kicked him out after that." She nodded.

"And what about Thor? Does he think that Loki...?"

"I don't think so, really, but he kind of gave up hope. He came back from Asgard a week ago and said they hadn't found any trace of him. The guy who guards the Bifrost can't see him, so..." Clint trailed off.

"... so little to no hope," Pepper finished for him. The two men nodded grimly.

"Still, we'll keep searching until we find him. He's out there somewhere, waiting for us." The archer's whispered words were nearly drowned out by the ding of the arriving elevator. Pepper squeezed his hand and stepped out.

As she opened the workshop door, the first notes of Benson Boone's Beautiful Things blared through the room.

For a while there, it was rough
But lately, I've been doin' better
Than the last four cold Decembers
I recall

Pepper hesitated. She knew and loved this song. Rhodey had chosen it as the closing song at their wedding. Hearing it in this context now gave it an entirely different meaning. "Tony?"

And I think I might have it all
And I thank God every day
For the girl He sent my way
But I know the things He gives me
He can take away

She swallowed hard, feeling tears well up. Tony was kneeling on the marble floor, bent forward, hands protectively over his head. His whole body was shaking. The music played on mercilessly...

Oh, I hope I don't lose you
Mm
Please stay
I want you, I need you, oh God
Don't take
These beautiful things that I've got

"Tony," she said again, unable to move. She and the two men behind her were frozen in place, paralyzed by the scene before them.

Ooh
Please don't take

No one moved as Tony began slamming his fist against the floor.

I found my mind, I'm feelin' sane
It's been a while, but I'm finding my faith
If everything's good and it's great
Why do I sit and wait 'til it's gone?

Tony let out an agonized scream. Pepper finally snapped out of her trance and rushed to his side. She knelt beside him and gently touched his back—as if approaching a wounded animal. "Tony."

Please stay
I want you, I need you, oh God
Don't take
These beautiful things that I've got

He flinched violently but stopped hitting the floor. "Did I really lose him, Pep?" She wasn't sure if Tony had actually spoken.

"Oh, Tony." She lightly stroked his head, and finally, he sat up. She tried not to react, but Tony looked terrible. Her best friend was only a shadow of himself.

Deep, dark circles surrounded his bloodshot eyes. His beard was completely out of control, as was his brown hair. But most concerning were his sunken cheeks and the sheer agony in his gaze.

Wordlessly, she pulled him into a hug, and after a moment, he returned it. Soon, he was clinging to her, his entire body shaking with grief.

"Tony, please let us help you, sweetheart," she whispered, but got no response. Silent tears streamed down her face. Seeing him like this was unbearable.

Bruce slowly approached. "Damn," he muttered, looking around. She followed his gaze as she continued holding her friend.

The lab was a battlefield: tools, metal parts, and empty bottles were strewn everywhere, some shattered as if they'd been thrown against the walls. Countless screens displayed calculations and data tables. One screen showed a frozen image of Loki in battle in front of an ominous-looking portal. That must have been the day, she thought. The entire lab looked like the work of a madman—which, in a way, it was.

Bruce crouched beside his friend and placed a hand on his back. "Please, Tony, let me help. You need a proper meal and, most of all, sleep."

Slowly, Tony pulled away from Pepper and rubbed his palms over his eyes.

"I... I can't," he sniffed. "W...when I close my eyes, I... I see him die." He lowered his hands, staring straight ahead.

"Then at least eat something. I'm worried about you," Bruce tried again.

Clint, who had been silent until now, stepped forward and held out a hand to the inventor. Tony slowly lifted his head.

"I'll tell you what, Stark: Shower, eat, sleep. In that order."

"Why should I?" Tony asked dully, staring through Clint.

"Because," Clint grinned, "Nat and I didn't find Loki, but we did find a certain Chitauri ship that might interest you."

Pepper saw her friend suddenly come to life, his gaze locking onto the archer.

"What did you say?" he asked sharply.

"Thought you'd like that. We tapped into our S.H.I.E.L.D. contacts and got intel on the whereabouts of the Chitauri commander who captured you back then. Once you're presentable again, Iron Man, we should pay him a visit. What do you think?"

Tony took the offered hand and let Clint pull him up. The archer pulled him close.

"Loki is out there somewhere, waiting for us," Clint whispered intensely. "We'll find him. My shield and my sword, just like Thor said."

Tony squeezed his hand gratefully.

He fell through the darkness. It was an unsettling sensation, deprived of all senses, falling through absolute blackness.

Loki had known what he had to do to close the portal when Thyra had mentioned the anchor stone. It was quite simple: It had to be closed from the other side, and it had to be done by the one who had created it. Or, as in this case, by someone who was close enough to them. When he had thrown both of them backward into the collapsing portal, he had immediately cast the necessary spell and shattered his mother's amulet to use the extra energy stored within it. Loki only hoped it had worked.

He felt the sorceress writhing in his grip. One thing unsettled him far more than the fact that he was currently falling through a portal with a completely deranged woman: The anchor stone.

These stones created a physical connection between two places, no matter where in space and time. However, if the stone was destroyed, as in this case, there was no way back. But he would have to find a way—he had promised Tony.

With a painful impact that knocked the air from his lungs for the second time that day, his senses returned.

"What… what have you done?!" Thyra gasped, sprawled across his chest. "It's destroyed. We will never get out of here."

Loki was curious where exactly "here" was.

"Don't be so dramatic, Thyra. Where has your portal brought us?"

As an answer, she attacked.

Loki effortlessly caught the dagger in her hand and also seized her other wrist to prevent her from stabbing him further. Raising an eyebrow, he looked up at the woman straddling him, who was now trying to pierce him with her gaze instead.

"Really? You want to continue this, even though you've already lost?"

She glared at him furiously.

"I should have killed you immediately instead of torturing your little pet with your slow demise. I should have thrown both of you out of that airlock right away," she hissed, spitting in his face. "No matter. Instead, I could have some fun with you now."

The wicked glint in her eyes boded nothing good. She began to struggle violently, trying to break free from his grip.

Loki felt a sharp pain in his calf, and when he looked down past Thyra, he saw with horror a small black shard embedded in his leg.

"What devilry is this?"

It burned like fire. He arched his back and hurled Thyra across the room—cave—what the hell was this place? Staggering, he got to his feet. Something was wrong with his eyes; his vision kept blurring, and his leg was burning. He reached for the shard, pulled it from his calf, and flung it far away.

Thyra had gotten back up and watched with amusement as he struggled to stay on his feet. Why wasn't she attacking him?

"What… wa…"

He felt unconsciousness creeping in, tried to fight it. In vain. He sank back to his knees, and darkness swallowed him.

"Yeah, well, babe—too late."

With a heavy thud, Iron Man landed in front of him, the visor sliding up to reveal a breathtaking grin. Before Loki could react, Tony pulled him into a deep kiss.

The chaos around them faded, and for a brief moment, time stood still. Loki melted into the touch, the battle, the pain, the worry—all of it dissolving. He was dizzy with it, overwhelmed, just like every time his mortal kissed him.

I love you…

Loki groaned. He didn't want to wake up. He wanted to stay here, in his memory of Tony. But pain dragged him back—always pain that pulled him into consciousness. He blinked, trying to remember where he was.

The dark room was enormous, with stars on the high ceiling. Wait, stars on the ceiling?

"Welcome back, my prince. How do you like your new home?"

Thyra had spoken, but he couldn't see her. He continued looking around, trying to clear his vision. His sight was still blurred.

It was truly a cathedral-like hall with a vaulted ceiling where stars shimmered. More than that, it seemed to be a small galaxy—or at least a replica of one. There were no windows, only massive pillars, and rugs and furs lay scattered on the black marble floor. The walls were bare except for a huge tapestry depicting a battle scene.

There was little furniture, and the large bed, covered in countless pillows and blankets, looked tiny and lost in the vast space.

He was aware that he was in chains—again. But this time, he was not just bound by the hands and feet. Heavy chains wrapped around his torso, securing him between two of the massive pillars. With his hands behind his back and forced onto his knees, he could barely move.

"Where… where am I?" Loki asked again.

He sensed movement behind him, and suddenly, his head was yanked back by his hair.

Thyra whispered into his ear, "This is my Shadow Realm—created solely for the purpose of seducing and subjugating Thor. He was supposed to be here, writhing beneath me. Instead, I have you here," she spat.

"You will writhe too, though in a different way than planned."

Loki swallowed hard.

His throat was exposed. If she wanted to, she could kill him right here and now. As if reading his thoughts, she laughed softly into his ear.

"Oh no, no Laufeyson. I won't make it that easy for you, bastard."

With that, she slashed his cheek with one of her daggers. She released his head and stepped into his field of vision. A long metallic spear lay in her hand.

She crouched before him, studying him.

"Hmm, I wonder…"

Her other hand grabbed his jaw, and she pressed a kiss onto his lips, forcing her tongue into his mouth.

He was surprised that there was no mental onslaught. So, this was not another attempt to enchant him—just a simple, brutal kiss, he thought, irritated.

She pulled away and licked her lips, watching him. In response, he grimaced and spat.

"I thought I made myself clear last time," he snarled.

Her eyes turned black.

"You had your chance. You don't want me? Fine…"

She set the spear aside and pulled something from her pocket.

"…then I have no use for your mouth anymore."

Loki's breathing quickened.

"No, wait!"

But she had already grabbed him again.

With searing pain, she stabbed the thick needle into the soft flesh beneath his lip. His scream was muffled as the needle emerged above his upper lip, sealing his mouth shut with a metal thread.

With five stitches, she completely closed his lips.

"Oh yes, I will have my fun with you, Silver Tongue, and we have millennia to spare."

With that, she stood up, lifted the spear, and rammed it through Loki's thigh and calf into the floor beneath.

Stunned, he stared at the spear now embedded in his body. The shock dulled the pain—but only for a moment. Then it hit him with full force, knocking the breath from his lungs.

He wanted to open his mouth to scream, but only guttural sounds escaped his throat. The thread tore at his flesh, and blood streamed over his mouth and chin. The pain was overwhelming, flooding his mind. His entire body felt like it was on fire, and he couldn't form a clear thought.

"The tip is a Brydda. I like my toys to stay in place."

With that, she turned and disappeared.

He wanted to die.

Why hadn't he died? He had sacrificed himself for his loved ones and Midgard—so why was he denied a swift death? Instead, he would waste away here, perhaps over a thousand years.

He should have taken Tony and fled instead of trying to play the hero.

He was no hero—never had been, never wanted to be. That had always been Thor's role.

Had it been his destiny to die in Thor's place, a sacrificial lamb, ready to be slaughtered? Had Odin taken him off the battlefield all those years ago for that reason? Raised him, trained him, and made sure he loved his older brother, so that he could throw himself into the knife for him at the right moment?

It didn't matter.

Pain-ridden, he groaned and forced the thought away.

If he was going to die, he wanted to think of only one person.

Not his adoptive father. Not his brother.

No.

He focused through the pain…

Anthony…

His mortal stood before him, smiling.

"I love you, Loki."

He escaped into the darkness.

Chapter 12 / Hope

"Are these the right coordinates?" Strange asked. "Are you sure? Because if not, we're most likely going to get sucked into space."

Clint looked at him uncertainly. "You're kidding, right?"

Tony stood next to Clint, Natasha, and Bruce in the hall of the Sanctum Sanctorum in New York, looking at Doctor Strange in disbelief. "You've never done this before, have you, Doc?"

The sorcerer gave him an irritated look. "No, Stark, I admit I've never opened a portal to space. So I can't say for certain what would happen if I miss the spaceship. But logically..."

Tony waved his hand. "Yeah, yeah, vacuum and all that. Let's get this over with before these assholes leave."

The two assassins beside him nodded. It meant the world to him that Bruce, Clint, and Natasha stood beside him in that moment. They hadn't given up and had opposed S.H.I.E.L.D. and Steve.

Steve, he had never thought his friend would turn against him. But the whole friendship thing was probably over.

They had fought fiercely, and Tony had finally kicked him out with the words, "You know what, Cap? Screw the Avengers! I'm out! So go back to your little S.H.I.E.L.D. basket and report. Tell Fury I'm crazy and not worth keeping. You think that's what I am? You know what? FUCK YOU! If you're not going to help me, at least don't get in my way. Now get out of here. I don't want to see you anymore."

A day later, he got the official confirmation in the mail that he was no longer part of the Avengers Initiative. When he threw the letter on the table during their dinner, Clint's only reaction was, "So what? We're still on your side." And they still were, despite his breakdown shortly after.

They had carried on without him and pulled him out of the darkness. He was infinitely grateful for that.

"Alright, then I'll start. Get ready," the sorcerer raised both hands again and began to form a portal with a circular motion.

"Just to clarify," Natasha said as she fastened her samurai sword behind her back, "question first, and if he doesn't know anything, you can do whatever you want with him."

She looked at Tony seriously, and he grimly nodded. He had told them what happened on the Chitauri ship, not in full detail, but enough. If he wanted to kill the commander with his bare hands, they wouldn't stop him, he thought. And most importantly, they wouldn't judge him.

The portal opened. "Well, looks good," he said and lowered the visor of his Iron Man suit. "JARVIS, which way?" With that, he stepped through first, followed by his friends and Doctor Strange.

"Straight ahead, Sir, and then the third left," the AI responded. "There are 36 life forms aboard, Sir. Most are on the upper decks. There are only five life signs on this deck. If you enter the following code on the console up ahead, you'll seal this section off and have enough time for your mission." A numerical code appeared in front of his eyes.

"Thanks, Jarv." It had been one of his more brilliant ideas to integrate a mobile version of JARVIS into his suit. That way, he had his AI with him even off Earth. The idea came to him after his crash during the Battle of New York 1.0. It had been terrifying to fall to Earth in his lifeless suit, yes. But even worse was suddenly being alone in space.

He typed in the code on the console, and the deck was sealed off. They proceeded, taking down three Chitauri along the way.

"The door directly ahead, Sir. Two life signs, one of which belongs to the commander," the AI reported.

They stormed the room.

"He doesn't know anything," Natasha cleaned her hands with a cloth Clint handed her.

"Damn, I thought he'd have at least something useful to offer," murmured the archer.

They had bound the commander to a chair, leaving Natasha to handle the interrogation. Unfortunately, it turned out that the Chitauri knew nothing about Thyra's plans or her whereabouts.

Tony was trembling with anger; he had allowed himself to hope for a lead.

"What now?" asked Bruce calmly.

Tony knew the doctor wouldn't like what was coming next, but he was also sure that Doc wouldn't stop him.

"Time to cut the leash to your master, dog," the commander taunted, and Tony silently reached out toward Natasha.

The grip of a samurai sword was placed in his hand. Tony's visor opened to show the bastard who he was.

"As I predicted, asshole. This is for Loki."

The Chitauri's eyes widened, likely not expecting that a human could be so cold-blooded. Tony let the sword glide through the air, and the creature's head fell to the ground.

"Let's go."

Back at the Sanctum Sanctorum, they thanked Strange and made their way home.

No one mentioned the fact that Tony had just cold-bloodedly murdered someone. Halfway down the stairs, Tony suddenly stopped.

"Everything okay, Stark?" Natasha asked.

"Time to cut the leash to your master," the Chitauri had said. Cut the leash.

A memory came to his mind, one night, a god in his hot tub, a confession:

"If I strengthen the bond, I could find you anywhere, anytime, my love." / "You mean like an integrated tracker or something?" / "Yes, that way, I could never lose you again." / "Have you lost me before? I'm not a dog." / "Anthony." / "Can I find you with this bond?" / "If you mastered magic, yes." / "Hm, after all the crap… yeah, why not, babe."

Tony heard the words in his head as if it had been just yesterday.

Why had it taken him so long to remember?! He needed someone who knew magic, he needed... someone from Asgard. Loki's mother had taught him to use his powers, Loki had told him that himself.

Tony started running, having already taken off his suit.

"Hey, man! Wait, what's going on?!" His friends were confused but followed him.

"I need to talk to Thor as soon as possible," he called over his shoulder.

"Okay, but can't we take a cab back? It's 12 blocks to the Tower," Bruce panted. Tony stopped and raised his hand. A taxi screeched to a halt in front of him.

"Stark Tower," he barked, as his friends squeezed into the back seat. Ten minutes later, he dashed onto the Stark Tower rooftop. This was where Thor always arrived when he visited; there had to be a connection to Asgard. Why had he never asked the god about it?

"Tony, are you going to tell us what the hell is going on?" Bruce sounded worried about Tony's strange behavior.

The inventor looked up at the sky, cupped his hands into a funnel, and called for Thor.

Tony turned to Bruce for a moment. "Remember when Loki accidentally healed me while I was sleeping?" he asked.

"Yeeeah, and?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"He explained it to me later. His magic saw me as part of him, and it formed a bond between us. A kind of magical connection, you know? He asked if he could strengthen it," Tony ranted.

"If this turns into dirty talk, I don't want to know," Clint muttered, but Tony continued.

"He said if he did, he could find me anywhere." He looked at them expectantly, and finally, Natasha came to the right conclusion.

"Does that mean you can find him too?"

Tony grinned at her and continued calling for Thor. The other three joined in eagerly.

"THOR, DAMN IT, COME ON, YOU STUBBORN GOD!" It wasn't working, and Tony didn't even know if he was heard in Asgard.

"Wait, doesn't Thor always call for the gatekeeper? What's his name again?" Natasha said.

Tony thought for a moment, then it clicked. "Hey Heimdall, if you hear me, this is Tony Stark for Thor. I think I've found a way to Loki. PLEASE, I need an audience with the Queen. HELLO, anyone?! Please." He whispered the last word, his gaze desperately fixed on the sky. A hand landed on his shoulder.

"Let's go inside, Tony," Bruce said seriously.

"But..."

"Give him time to deliver the message. You don't even know how long it takes to send something in Asgard. Maybe he has to ask for permission or something. In the meantime, you could pack and change." He looked meaningfully down at him.

Tony was still wearing the light functional clothing he wore under his Iron Man suit.

"Yeah, Stark, maybe you want to wear something less... provocative," Clint joked.

He was right, the functional clothing fit Tony's body like a second skin, and that was on purpose. That way, nothing would catch when the suit was on or off.

"Fine," Tony grumbled but couldn't resist swaying his hips provocatively in front of Clint as he walked through the common room.

That earned him an amused laugh. "Yeah, I see what Loki finds so attractive."

An hour later, Thor arrived. "Friend Stark!" he called, rushing toward Tony.

"Thor, I need to speak with your mother. There might be a way to find Loki," Tony said, explaining to the God of Thunder what Loki had told him.

"What do you think?" he asked tensely.

Though Thor had sounded excited upon arriving, he still looked as broken as when they'd last met—the very encounter that had contributed to Tony's breakdown.

The past month had been intense. The argument with Fury and Steve, the tension every time the remaining friends found a clue, and the deep disappointment when it led nowhere—all of it had taken a heavy toll on him.

Tony had placed his last hope in Asgard, but when the God of Thunder had finally returned, he had been bitterly disappointed. Thor had reported that all attempts to find Loki had been fruitless. Though he hadn't said it outright, Tony could read the deep sorrow in the god's eyes.

He mourned someone he thought was dead, and that had been the final blow for Tony.

This sorrow now slowly faded from Thor's eyes the longer Tony spoke, replaced by a new emotion: hope.

Thor placed his hands on Tony's shoulders and brought his forehead to Tony's. Tony recognized this gesture from Loki and knew it was a sign of deep trust. He closed his eyes for a brief moment.

"I think we should try. Mother will know. Come," he said finally. Tony gave him a broad grin.

"Alright, Big Guy, I'll just grab my stuff." This would work— it had to work. Tony missed his god so much that it was hard to breathe, as though a heavy weight was pressing on his chest.

His suitcase with the latest Iron Man suit, Mark 17, and a bag with clothes were already waiting by the door.

"Wait a minute, you two," Bruce stepped in front of the door, blocking their path. "Is there any way for us," he gestured toward himself, Natasha, and Clint, "to know what's going on with you guys?"

The god furrowed his brow. "Oh, I hadn't thought of that." He rubbed his beard. "I don't think Father would be too upset if I brought along one more guest under the circumstances."

Tony stepped forward and turned Bruce toward the door.

"Great, Doc, let's go on a trip. Hurry up!"

He didn't want to waste any more time. Tony already cursed himself for taking so long to find the solution.

"But... hey," his friend protested. "Can I at least grab a bag? Just give me five minutes!"

Tony ground his teeth but let him go. He didn't want to be the reason the Hulk showed up without clean underwear.

Natasha stepped forward as they waited. "Send him back as soon as there's news, okay?" she asked.

Tony nodded and winked at her. He'd definitely noticed that the two of them had started something. As the Doctor rushed back to them, Thor already turned around and called for the gatekeeper.

"Take care," Natasha whispered, giving Bruce a kiss.

Tony winked at him as the Doc stood beside him.

A roaring sound filled the air around them, and they seemed to suddenly be bathed in bright light. It was a strange feeling, traveling this way—as if being shot upward in an incredibly fast elevator. Tony much preferred Loki's elegant teleportation.

The acceleration stopped abruptly. He almost stumbled forward, but gentle arms caught him.

When Tony looked up, he was face to face with a beautiful, somewhat older woman. She had long, curly blonde hair, held back by a fine golden tiara. Her delicate features had something Aztec about them, with full lips and large blue eyes that studied him attentively. Once he was fully captured by her gaze, she gave him a smile.

"Welcome to Asgard, Anthony Stark." That could only be...

"Mother!" Thor's exclamation confirmed Tony's guess about who had just caught him. "Allow me to introduce: Tony Stark and Dr. Bruce Banner from Midgard." Thor's mother inclined her head slightly toward Bruce but didn't release Tony's arms.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both. Call me Frigga."

Thor stepped beside his mother and raised an eyebrow. "Why aren't you in the palace, mother?"

She looked at her son disapprovingly, and Thor actually flinched slightly like a little boy. Tony would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so urgent.

"I wanted to personally welcome my son's companion to Asgard before anyone else does. Plus, I'm curious to see if..."

Tony could see the sadness in those blue eyes. She had come because she couldn't wait to see if her hope was in vain.

He returned the pressure of her hands. "It's an honor, Your Majesty. I think I can find him, but I need your help. Oh, and call me Tony," he added with a grin.

She linked her arm through his and led the small group out of the arrival hall and across the colorful rainbow bridge. Past the silent gatekeeper Heimdall with his golden eyes, past waterfalls and towering white marble and gold spires. Asgard was beautiful, but Tony barely noticed it.

"Loki created the bond that connects us, first unintentionally," he began explaining. "But then he, with my consent, strengthened it."

Frigga looked at him in surprise and paused for a moment. But then a wide smile lit up her face.

Tony continued. "He said that I could find him anywhere if I mastered magic. Well, I can't, but maybe you can? He told me you taught him magic when he was a child."

By now, they had arrived at the palace. The three men looked at Frigga eagerly, who continued smiling all the while.

This is a good sign, right? Tony thought. No one smiles like that if it's a dead end.

"Indeed, it is possible," she finally said. Tony let out a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding.

"However..." Of course, there was a 'but,' damn it! "It will take some time, and..." She suddenly fell silent and looked sadly at Thor.

"What is it, mother?" he asked quietly.

Frigga looked back at Tony. "The bond will only last as long as both partners are alive. If Loki is truly lost to us..."

Tony swallowed hard. "Then at least I'll have certainty," he said in a quiet but firm voice. He didn't know how he would react if Frigga couldn't find the bond. But damn it, he had to save Loki or mourn him. One way or another, this had to end before he fell apart.

She nodded seriously and motioned for them to follow her into a bright chamber. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and through tall arching windows, the blinding light of midday streamed in. In the center was a small round table and three light wooden chairs. She seated Tony in one of the chairs and pulled a second one close to him before sitting down herself.

"Thor, dear. Please inform your father of this. He must be waiting anxiously in the throne room." Thor nodded and pulled Bruce with him.

Frigga turned her attention back to Tony. "I need to touch your chest, Tony. Is that alright with you?" she asked.

"Please, go ahead. Do I need to do anything?" he asked uncertainly.

"Hmm, could you perhaps think about my son while I work? That would likely strengthen the signal." She looked at him questioningly—was the request too much, too painful?

"I think about him all the time anyway," was all Tony had to say about that.

Frigga nodded in satisfaction and placed a hand on his chest. She began murmuring words in a language Tony didn't understand.

Tony had heard this language before: Ek ann þér. The first time, he hadn't understood the meaning because Loki had immediately said "come here" afterward. He had thought that was the meaning of the foreign words.

But when he heard them a second time, it dawned on him that it couldn't be. He had fed it into JARVIS but received no response due to his mispronunciation. So, he had eventually asked Thor.

Thor's gaze had softened when he revealed the true meaning: Ek ann þér... I love you.

It didn't actually take as long as Frigga had predicted.

Just as the door opened and Thor returned with Bruce in tow, the Queen of Asgard let out a soft cry of surprise.

Behind them, the King of Asgard stepped through the door.

The Allfather was impressive. Tony had to blink hard; this god radiated power like the sun. Sure, his hair and beard were now gray, and the probably once muscular chest wasn't as broad as it had been, but he still made an imposing figure.

Ugh, both parents-in-law in one day—get it together and make a good impression, Tony thought.

Not knowing if he was allowed to move or speak, he just nodded briefly to the Allfather. The god returned the gesture and then looked questioningly at his wife.

"He's alive!" Frigga exclaimed.

For a moment, the royal facade slipped, and Frigga was just a mother—filled with joy and relief.

"I can feel the bond clearly! Now let me search for my son. Get Heimdall, I need him to determine the location." She pressed her hand firmly back on Tony's chest, but he didn't even notice.

He didn't hear the excited murmurs of the others in the chamber either. Desperately, he tried to hold back tears.

He's alive! Loki is alive!

Tony felt the knot of fear and despair that had held him captive for so long slowly unravel. He took a shaky breath and clenched his trembling hands into fists. He would find him and bring him home.

He's alive!

It took them an hour.

Heimdall finally announced, "I see the place. Let me examine it a bit more closely."

Tony looked at the queen expectantly, and she gave him a bright smile. "Well then, let's gather the others to discuss how to proceed," she said as Heimdall finally bowed his head to indicate he had seen enough.

Tony smiled nervously. He didn't like Heimdall's look. What had the Gatekeeper seen? However, Frigga was undeterred and called her husband and the others into the room.

They all turned to Heimdall, tense. The Gatekeeper was the one who could make a passage possible—or not.

"The passage is possible. However, they are in a shadow realm."

This statement was met with a soft, astonished exclamation from the queen and a loud "What?!" from Thor.

Tony and Bruce exchanged glances. They were completely lost. What in the world was a shadow realm? And why did everyone seem so shocked?

The Allfather gave Heimdall a serious look. "How is that possible? Shadow realms have been forbidden practices for centuries."

Ah yes, Loki had told him something about forbidden magic that had caused war between the Vanir and the Aesir. So, definitely not good.

"I cannot answer that, Allfather. Perhaps Thyra created it?" the Gatekeeper replied calmly.

Tony cleared his throat. He just couldn't keep quiet, even though Bruce's look was begging him to do so.

"Okay, so it's a shadow realm. It's forbidden, but they're still there. What are we waiting for? I've got my suit here, Thor, let's go."

That got Odin's attention.

Tony swallowed hard as the blue eyes turned to him.

Blue—everyone has blue eyes, except Loki, he thought. He wanted those green eyes back, so what the hell were they waiting for?

"You have a brave heart, Tony Stark. However, the problem with shadow realms is that you never know what to expect," Odin spoke directly to him. "They were not forbidden for no reason. Sorcerers mostly created them as hideouts, but later as traps. They can be inhospitable places. Sometimes reality is distorted, and usually, the laws of physics are thrown out the window. And if Thyra truly created this place herself, she controls it."

Oh, great, that really didn't sound good, but they would just have to improvise on-site. He looked from Odin to Heimdall.

"What did you see?" he asked bluntly, holding Heimdall's gaze, despite his throat tightening.

Golden eyes looked at him seriously. "I couldn't notice anything unusual. It appeared to be a large hall. What it's really like there, I can't say. The prince is very weak, and we shouldn't waste any time. But it's a risk for those who go."

Tony had never been the most patient person, and this had already gone on way too long. Mostly because of him!

He was a genius, wasn't he? He had searched in every direction, checked millions of data, and had finally been broken.

The solution had been him all along. He really was an idiot, and if something happened to Loki, he would never forgive himself.

"I'll go. Please open the passage," Tony said firmly as he stood up. He was halfway to his suit when a gentle hand on his upper arm stopped him.

"I'm not sure you'd survive, Tony," Frigga said softly. "Shadow realms are not made for humans. It's not just inhospitable places, the atmosphere is toxic, understand?"

Tony clenched his fists. This couldn't be true. He couldn't just sit here and twiddle his thumbs. He had told Loki long ago that he'd die for him. Well, his mind hadn't changed. He had to at least try.

"I'll go anyway, the suit can take a lot," he said with deadly seriousness to Frigga. She studied him for a long moment before exchanging a look with Odin.

When Tony looked at the Allfather, he gave a barely perceptible nod. The queen smiled at her husband, and with a small gesture, something golden appeared in her hand.

She handed it to Tony and said, "It's your decision."

Chapter 13 / Ek ann þér

He was dying. Loki could feel it.

For a while now, his heartbeat had been faltering. Stripped of his magic by the Brydda, he couldn't heal himself. That cursed thing had been lodged in his leg since day one, but he barely felt it anymore.

In fact, he barely felt anything of his body at all as it hung motionless in chains between the pillars. Bit by bit, everything had gone numb. First, his arms, bound behind his back. Then his chest. Finally, his legs, trapped in this uncomfortable kneeling position.

The pain in his leg only flared into unbearable agony when Thyra twisted the spear in his wound—something she did practically every day to wrench him out of unconsciousness. He no longer knew how long he had been here.

Thyra simply wouldn't let him die. Over and over again, she funneled small amounts of magic into his body, just enough to heal the worst of the wounds she inflicted. But she was no healer and didn't really know what she was doing. Loki wouldn't tell her. He welcomed death.

There was no way out of here. All that lay ahead of him was an eternity in these chains, with Thyra as his tormentor. No—Loki would rather die than remain here.

Now, he heard footsteps behind him and tried to tense his numb body. Some days, hours, weeks ago—who could even tell anymore?—she had taken to blindfolding him as well.

That had been his own fault. Since she had so effectively silenced him with needle and thread, he had taken to simply staring at her while she did whatever crossed her mind. It was the only thing that seemed to irritate her, and he had done it with great satisfaction.

Well, then came the blindfold, and now he couldn't even see the horror coming.

The rough fabric was ripped unceremoniously from his head. No, no, no—who would it be this time?

His mental defenses had recently crumbled under Thyra's constant pressure, and she had invaded his mind, rummaging through it like a boar rooting through underbrush.

She was a truly incompetent sorceress. If she hadn't relied so heavily on her filthy tricks, he would have wiped her from the face of this world.

But in the end, she had gotten what she wanted, and he was completely at her mercy.

Now, with what she had found in his mind, she delighted in tormenting him in a new and profoundly cruel way.

Loki let out a guttural sound, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose as the spear in his leg was twisted once more. He blinked and looked up—into the face of his father.

Odin, this time.

She was taking the form of the people from his life, each of them delivering their own kind of pain.

He had already endured a brutal beating from Thor.

His mother had pierced him with the tiny black thorns until his entire body burned and he finally passed out.

But the worst had been Anthony.

What she had said to him in the form of his mortal had been far worse than any physical torture.

Now it was his father's turn. He wondered what would come next.

"There you are, monster," Odin spat. "On your knees, where you belong. You disgust me."

A hand closed around his throat, squeezing tight.

Loki desperately tried to drag air into his lungs.

His reflex was to open his mouth wide, and the stitches—already on the verge of tearing—ripped anew.

Blood filled his mouth, and he felt something snap in his throat.

He was going to die.

His heartbeat stuttered again, and the darkness swallowed him whole.

Pain dragged him out of unconsciousness, as merciless as ever.

Loki slowly came to, almost disappointed. Was it still not over?

Something, however, was different this time. There were sounds. More than usual. It almost sounded like... a battle?

He couldn't see anything; the blindfold was back over his eyes. What had that madwoman come up with now to torment him?

Wait! That sound!

He knew that sound. But that was impossible—he had to be imagining it.

Maybe he was still unconscious? No—there! A wave of heat had just passed close to him.

He definitely heard the jets and repulsors of Tony's Iron Man suit.

Another wave of heat rolled past him, followed by a drawn-out scream.

Words were spoken—too distant for him to understand. Then pleading, another scream, and silence.

Loki held his breath. What was happening?!

Heavy footsteps approached, and someone called his name.

He flinched as something heavy hit the ground in front of him.

A mechanical whirring sound followed, and suddenly, a familiar voice spoke his name.

"Loki."

A gentle hand removed the blindfold. He blinked against the light, struggling to focus his gaze.

No. No, no. She had done it again—transformed into his mortal.

This time, she had even recreated his Iron Man suit, though the visor was open, and the right hand was bare.

She lifted her hand toward his face, and he recoiled violently.

He would not allow her to touch him in that form.

She hesitated. Why was she hesitating?

Brown eyes locked onto his, and Loki caught the familiar scent of his mortal—sandalwood, lemon, and a faint trace of motor oil.

Wait.

She had never mimicked scents before. He didn't even think she could. Didn't want to believe she could.

Could this really—?

"Hey, babe, it's me. Tony."

Loki blinked rapidly as she—he—lifted a hand toward his face once more.

"Thyra can't hurt you anymore. She's dead."

The brown eyes held him captive, unwavering, as the hand approached his face with careful, almost reverent hesitation. Like one would approach a wounded animal—which, in every sense, he was.

Something about those eyes was different from before.

These eyes were... real.

His Anthony had tiny golden flecks in the brown and a darker spot in his right iris.

This was Anthony.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as rough fingertips brushed against his skin.

With a desperate sob, Loki pressed his face into his mortal's hand.

Tony exhaled in relief.

A quiet voice spoke from within the helmet, and Tony responded:

"Got it, JARVIS. Thor, we need to get him out of here, fast. Can you break the chains, Khaleesi?"

So, his brother was here too. But how?

Tony's voice cut through the haze of pain.

"Babe, did you seriously book the 'BDSM & Bondage Package' again? Why do I always find you in a pool of your own blood?"

Warm brown eyes, full of tenderness.

This was no illusion. No trick. This was Anthony Stark.

Gently, Tony wrapped his arms around Loki, trying to stabilize him while Thor worked on the chains.

Loki rested his head against the armor, allowing himself a brief moment of relief.

Maybe they could escape. Maybe he could die at home, in his lover's arms. Maybe someone would even place one of his daggers in his hand, so he could find his way to Valhalla.

It was a nice thought.

Loki felt his heartbeat falter again.

A quiet voice came from Tony's suit.

"Sir, his condition is critical. Irregular heart rhythm detected. May I remind you that returning to Asgard will be impossible if Mr. Loki dies?"

Loki's eyes snapped open. What had the voice just said?

"I can't break them!" his brother growled behind him. "The chains are too strong. Do you have something in your suit that could work?"

Tony glanced at Loki, as if reading his thoughts.

"Don't even think about it, babe. I'm not leaving without you. So stay with me, yeah?"

He pressed a kiss to Loki's forehead.

"Thor, get over here and hold him."

The men switched places. Now, Thor's strong arms wrapped around him, carrying the familiar scent of ozone and musk.

Tony turned to his AI. "Okay, Jarv, tell me where."

Loki felt heat against his back as Tony melted the chains with his repulsors.

It was working. With a clatter, the first chain broke.

One by one, his mortal severed them.

Loki felt the crushing pressure around his chest begin to ease.

"Careful—this is the last one," Tony called over the rattling of metal.

Suddenly, freed from his restraints, Loki collapsed against Thor's chest.

A loud groan tore from him as the spear in his leg shifted painfully.

"I've got you, Loki," his brother whispered.

"Sir, the rod is a spear, embedded deep into the ground," JARVIS reported.

"Okay—can I just cut it in half and deal with it in Asgard?" Tony asked, tense.

"Negative, Sir. The shaft is Vibranium. It must be removed entirely. Estimated survival probability following extraction: 50%."

Loki's eyes flew open. They wanted to pull it out?

By the gods—no. He wouldn't survive that.

The way it felt now, it was probably fused to his flesh.

He turned to his brother in silent, desperate plea. Please, no.

Thor met his gaze, then pressed their foreheads together in a familiar gesture.

"I will make it quick, brother. But we must leave. Please."

Loki shook his head frantically. Just leave me here. Go without me. He wanted to scream it, but no sound came from his ruined lips—only a whimper.

"Tony already told you, brother—we are not leaving without you," Thor said, reading him perfectly.

Tony was back at his side, kneeling next to Thor.

Loki's gaze flickered between the two men he cared for most.

He had been willing to die for them.

So why not fight for them and life?

If he died, they would be trapped here forever.

His entire body trembled as he closed his eyes and gave a single, reluctant nod.

"Tony."

Thor stood, and Tony took his place as Loki's support.

Loki slumped heavily against his mortal's shoulder, silent tears slipping down his face.

Iron Man placed his hands on the spear—one on Loki's calf, the other on his thigh.

Thor gripped the shaft firmly with both hands.

He counted to three.

The pain was unbearable—searing, ripping, blinding—though Thor had kept his promise and acted swiftly.

The attempt to scream only tore at Loki's mouth and throat, sending fresh agony through his body.

Once more, his heart stopped.

He lost all sense of where pain ended and his body began.

Darkness consumed him. And he passed out.

It didn't last.

When he awoke, he was cradled in Iron Man's arms.

His hands were free, and fiery pain coursed through them as blood flow returned.

"We need to move," Thor murmured to Tony.

They were still in the Shadow Realm.

Anthony carried him swiftly through the great hall, Thor beside him, stealing worried glances. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the vast space.

Above them, the artificial galaxy shimmered, indifferent to the chaos below.

Loki's vision remained blurry, but he could make out a lifeless figure along their path—

A body, sprawled in a pool of blood. A gaping hole in its forehead.

Repulsor fire, Loki noted grimly.

He would have loved to bury every dagger he owned in that corpse.

Tony suddenly stopped.

"Hey, Heimdall! Three to beam up!" he called.

To Loki's astonishment, Asgard's gatekeeper actually responded to that nonsense.

With a roar, the Bifrost awakened—

And pulled them home.

Tony's feet hit the arrival hall floor hard.

He held Loki tightly against him, who had lost consciousness once more. Tony would never let go of his god again—that much was certain.

His body was running on autopilot, his mind completely overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. What he had seen, what they had done, what he had done.

Thyra had put up a fierce fight, but Thor had finally struck her with his lightning. Despite the shadow realm she truly seemed to command, she had lost against the combined fury of the two men. His repulsor blasts had knocked her down, and Thor had let Mjölnir follow.

She hadn't moved after that, but Tony and Thor wanted to be absolutely sure, so Tony had emotionlessly placed his hand against the woman's head and fired. The God of Thunder had nodded in grim satisfaction.

Tony felt numb. This was the second time he had killed in cold blood. He swallowed, but as he looked down at the lifeless bundle in his arms, his expression hardened.

They had deserved it. There was a line, and it had been definitely crossed. No punishment in the world could undo what they had done to Loki.

He was Tony Stark, not Captain America. He was no diplomat. He could walk over corpses—no problem.

Loki had once told him that sometimes, darkness was necessary to sleep peacefully. Now, Tony understood what the god had meant. He would definitely sleep better, knowing both threats had been eliminated.

No, he didn't regret it. He had more important things to do, and the most important one was lying in his arms, breathing shallowly.

Tony looked around the arrival hall and felt relieved when he saw they were expected. Three men in Asgardian clothing approached him quickly, carrying some kind of floating stretcher, followed closely by Bruce. Loki's parents reached them first.

Frigga had tears in her eyes as she stroked her son's blood-matted hair. "Oh, my love. What has she done to you?" she whispered so quietly that only Tony could hear.

The Allfather seemed afraid to touch Loki, as if scared to cause him more pain.

Tony couldn't blame him. The god in his arms looked like there wasn't a single uninjured spot left on his body. His once magnificent armor of metal and leather was slashed and torn in countless places. His face was swollen and discolored, encrusted with blood. And his beautiful mouth... Tony's heart broke seeing him like this.

"Allfather, Queen, please allow me to take care of the general," one of the men interrupted their reunion. Odin and Frigga stepped aside immediately, but Tony only held Loki closer.

Bruce watched his friend with concern. "It's okay, Tony. These are Hjálmarr, Ing, and Airikr. They are Asgard's best healers, and that's a kind of emergency medical stretcher. It stabilizes the patient and provides the doctors with vital stats. Please, lay Loki down and let them do their work."

When Tony didn't move, Bruce added more gently, "Tony, please. You've done everything you could for him. Let us take care of him now."

A heavy hand settled on his shoulder, and Thor helped him gently place Loki on the stretcher. Instantly, a transparent cocoon appeared around the god's body, displaying various data on its surface. Among them was something resembling an ECG—the irregular line suspiciously looked like a heartbeat.

Tony held his breath as the line suddenly stopped rising and continued in a straight, lifeless line. Hjálmarr quickly pressed a hand against Loki's chest, and moments later, the heartbeat returned.

"He is very weak," the healer murmured more to himself than to the others. "We must get him to the healing ward immediately," he added louder, and the stretcher moved hastily, the healers following closely.

Bruce walked beside Tony, studying him intently.

"Don't look at me like that, Doc. I'm fine," Tony muttered, then glanced at his hands and suit before adding, "This isn't my blood."

The healing ward turned out to be a cloister surrounding a square garden. In its center stood a tree with a golden shimmer. The arched walkways were supported by gothic-style columns, with several chambers branching off. Loki was brought into one of the bright rooms.

Hjálmarr stopped Loki's escort at the door and asked them to wait outside. Tony had no intention of listening to that and pushed his way in behind Bruce. Thor didn't look pleased either.

"Hjálmarr, I respect you greatly, but I will not leave him alone. I promise we won't get in your way." That ended the discussion.

Thor stood beside Tony against the infirmary wall, watching as Loki's armor was removed. The more pale skin was revealed, the clearer the extent of Thyra's madness became. Damn. The lump in Tony's throat grew, and his heart clenched painfully.

He averted his gaze and began removing his own suit, using the distraction to hide his tears from the others.

Loki slowly regained consciousness just as they had fully undressed him and started tending to his left leg. A white cloth had been draped over his hips, and everyone in the room had tactfully lowered their gaze. Everyone except Tony, who was also the only one who seemed to notice Loki's growing distress.

What was wrong with these healers that they didn't realize their patient was having a panic attack?

Finally, Hjálmarr seemed to catch on. He bent over Loki, trying to soothe him. "General, it's me, Hjálmarr. You are safe."

It didn't work. The god was too weak to move much, but his distress grew. The monitor's readings spiked. "Loki, please, my friend..."

The healer looked to Tony for help, who was already on the move. In an instant, he was beside his god. "Hey, babe, it's okay," he whispered.

Loki's dull eyes locked onto him, and Tony raised a hand to his face. He gave his partner a moment to register his scent. It had helped Loki recognize him in the shadow realm. It worked again. Loki's nostrils flared, and the panicked look in his eyes faded.

"I'm here, babe. We're in Asgard, and these healers would like to help you—if you let them."

After a brief moment, Loki's green eyes closed in a small nod.

"He says it's okay, you can continue," Tony said over his shoulder, not noticing the look exchanged between the three healers.

Ing suddenly handed Tony a small pair of pliers. "Would you be so kind, my lord?" He gestured toward Loki's sealed mouth.

Bruce stepped beside him. "Is it okay, Loki, if I help Tony?" His god blinked briefly.

Then his eyes began scanning the room anxiously as if searching for something. Tony followed his gaze, which landed on Thor. The brothers stared at each other for a long time. Loki's eyes drifted down to his brother's hip and then back to his face.

What the hell is going on? When Tony saw Thor's pained expression, he knew it wasn't good.

The God of Thunder slowly approached Loki, pulling a small dagger from the sheath at his hip. So that's what Loki had been looking at.

Weighing the dagger in his hand, Thor finally said, "This is only to calm you, brother. If you try to escape to Valhalla, Tony here will surely kill you."

This earned a snort from Loki and a brief blink. Gently, Thor placed the dagger in Loki's right hand and closed his fingers around it. Tony shot Thor a questioning look, but the god only shook his head. He would explain later.

For now, Tony focused on carefully cutting the stitches sealing Loki's mouth with Bruce's help. Removing the threads was painful, and Loki squeezed his eyes shut, flinching at every touch. Sweat formed on Tony's forehead from concentration and effort. The metal wasn't easy to cut without causing Loki even more pain.

They had just severed the last metallic thread when Tony briefly looked up from the exhausting task, only to see the Allfather enter the room.

He hadn't even noticed when Odin had left. Now, the king held one of the golden apples in his hands and stepped closer. With his bare hands, he tore the apple in half and held one piece to Loki's mouth.

"Eat, my son."

Tony saw his god swallow painfully. He had already noticed the dark bruises on Loki's throat. He seriously doubted that anything other than liquid would pass through his swollen throat without killing him in the process.

"Uh, I don't know if..." he began, but Odin silenced him with a look.

Loki gazed at his father desperately but still tried to obey, taking a small bite of the apple—and immediately began choking on it. Well, that had been predictable.

The unstable ECG line started erratically fluctuating again. Tony did his best to support Loki, but when his father wouldn't relent, his patience snapped.

"For fuck's sake! He can't swallow! Do you have eyes in your head?!" he snapped angrily, pointing at Loki's throat. "Give me that!" He ripped the apple halves from Odin's hands.

All eyes were on him, and Tony was well aware that he had just majorly pissed off the supreme god of Asgard and the Nine Realms. That wasn't how one spoke to the King of Asgard. But screw that!

"Hjálmarr, do these still work if they're pureed?" He raised an eyebrow at the healer's questioning look and added, "Turned into mush, so he can swallow it more easily."

The healer considered for a moment. "That should work. Airikr, would you be so kind?" The man in question took the apple halves and began mashing them into a fine pulp.

Tony braced himself for a thunderous scolding as he turned back to Odin, but instead, he found an amused smile on the Allfather's face. The king chuckled, shook his head, patted his son's shoulder—who was still gasping for air—and then returned to stand beside Frigga. The two exchanged glances before giving Tony a warm smile.

Tony didn't have time to think about it. Airikr pressed a bowl of mashed apples and a spoon into his hands. Apparently, he had just been promoted to assistant healer. Damn Asgardians!

He looked at Loki and noticed a faint smile.

"What?" he asked irritably.

"Okay, babe, shall we try this?" he added more gently, lifting a small spoonful of apple mash. His god responded with a slow blink.

The puree still seemed painful to swallow, but at least Loki didn't choke on it.

Once he had finished eating, Hjálmarr stepped to Loki's other side.

"General, you are very weak. I would like to put you into a healing sleep until your magic returns and stabilizes you."

Loki's eyes widened in panic, and he wanted to say something, but not a single sound passed through his wounded throat. Instead, he shook his head.

The healer looked at Tony seriously and pulled him a little to the side. "He is very weak. I don't know if he will survive in his waking state. The healing sleep is a magically induced condition that gives the body the time it needs to regenerate."

"Then why is he afraid of it? That sounds like a good thing," Tony asked quietly.

"Some men have reported an endless darkness surrounding them. It can be a terrifying experience. Nevertheless, I ask you to speak to him—I fear for his life," Hjálmarr said, looking at the ECG line, which was growing weaker.

Tony sighed heavily and turned to the room. "Give us a moment alone, please."

Great. Now he had to convince a man who had just endured hell on earth with his eyes blindfolded to willingly let himself fall into darkness again.

As soon as they were alone, Loki started shaking his head again. He lifted his right hand, still clutching the dagger, and pressed his clenched fist against his chest.

Tony rolled his eyes and grabbed the face of his stubborn god with both hands.

"Would you cut this nonsense already? You and Thor can't fool me—I know what Valhalla is. And you are not going to die just because you're afraid of the dark, got it?"

Loki's eyes narrowed into furious slits.

"I need you to listen to me! Are you listening?"

A brief blink.

"I will be here. The whole time. I will not take my eyes off you." Tony was angry now, and he didn't even know why. "Hell, maybe I'll even grope you now and then," he added challengingly, earning an even darker glare than before.

"Babe, it's not like we can't force you. Right now, you're as weak as a newborn kitten," Tony provoked further. When Loki attempted to sit up slightly, Tony pushed him back onto the bed with a single fingertip to prove his point.

Okay, now his god was really pissed.

"Oh, good. You're angry. You know what? So am I!"

Loki was still glaring at him but raised an eyebrow questioningly. And suddenly, Tony knew why he was so mad.

"I know you went through hell, babe. I went through my own, damn it. I searched for you. Everywhere. Except where you had left the answer. I forgot the bond!" Tony burst out.

"You're lying here, barely hanging on, because of me... If you die, it's my fault! Because I wasn't fast enough. It's tearing me apart to see you suffer like this, and now you're lying here refusing treatment?! Fuck!" He blinked rapidly to fight off the burning in his eyes.

"If you don't want me anymore, you can just tell me. You don't have to go and die just to break up with me."

Tears now streamed down his cheeks.

He was so angry—at himself, at the world, at the stubborn god in front of him, at everything.

He wouldn't blame Loki if he didn't want him anymore. He had failed. Everything had been his fault, really. He never should have left his position in New York back then. If he had stayed, Loki wouldn't have had to sacrifice himself for him.

Loki's eyes widened, and he shook his head. Gentle fingertips wiped away Tony's tears, and green eyes looked at him with so much love. Loki pulled him close, pressing their foreheads together, sharing his breath.

"An... Antho...," Loki tried to form Tony's name, and it sounded painful.

Tony placed a finger over his lips to stop him from speaking. He had just realized something.

He let out a joyless laugh and shook his head. "You know, I've never been one for serious relationships. Wham, bam, onto the next. Playboy and all that. Maybe I have commitment issues—who knows? But you... you are something special. You asked me to be your mate, and I have never felt better in my entire life."

Tony's heart was pounding in his chest as he looked deeply into Loki's eyes.

"Maybe you didn't catch it the first two times, so I'll say it again in your language. Ek ann þér, Loki! I love you, damn it, so please don't go where I can't follow. I need you," he pleaded desperately.

He closed his eyes and sniffled loudly as Loki's cool hand wiped his tears away again.

His god pulled him close, and Tony carefully pressed a kiss to his swollen lips.

Loki looked at him, and there it was—that soft sparkle in his eyes that usually only appeared after sex. In those brief moments when he thought Tony wouldn't notice.

Loki pointed at himself—I, then at his chest—love, then at Tony—you too.

"I don't want to lose you. Please," Tony whispered.

Finally, Loki blinked and nodded.

For the past two weeks, Tony hadn't left Loki's side. He had promised to be there when Loki was put into healing sleep, and he intended to keep his word.

Thor and Frigga had visited him in turns, and even the Allfather had come by a few times to check on his son. Tony had lowered his head awkwardly and attempted an apology:

"Uh, about the apple... I'm sorry. I realize that's probably not the way to speak to a king."

But Odin had simply waved it off with a laugh.

"Indeed, but do not worry, Tony Stark. You are forgiven. I am already used to this kind of address from my son here. It seems he has chosen well with you."

That left Tony utterly confused.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Could these gods not, for once, speak in plain, understandable words?

Hjálmarr had told Tony that people in healing sleep were still aware of what was happening around them and encouraged him to talk to Loki as usual.

That was something Tony Stark didn't need to be told twice. He loved the sound of his own voice, and now his monologues weren't even interrupted by Loki's scoffing.

He even found a way to communicate with his god—or at least, that's what he told himself. But it couldn't be a coincidence that the tiny ECG line spiked every time he pressed a kiss to Loki's cheek or rambled on about something ridiculous.

Tony also finally understood why his god had always been so unimpressed by his technology in the lab and workshop.

The healers here were equipped with cutting-edge technology, far more advanced than anything he had ever seen on Earth. There was probably a bit of magic involved, too. The ultimate dream of any doctor—and Bruce had nearly had his eyes pop out of his head.

His friend had reluctantly made his way home after Loki had finally been put into healing sleep. He was eager to report back to the other Avengers and friends, and Tony was grateful for that.

Heimdall had promised to bring the Doc back to Asgard anytime he called for him.

Chapter 14 / Rapunzel & Of Bonds and Magical Ties

Loki's condition steadily improved. And Tony annoyed Hjálmarr so much that the healer eventually gave in, so they moved the sleeping god to his own chambers.

"I will check on him morning, noon, and evening," the healer told Tony, attaching a small chip to the headboard of the bed. "If his vitals deteriorate, call me immediately." A monitoring screen flickered to life. "Keep talking to him, you can also move his arms, legs, and so on."

Tony nodded, only half-listening. He was watching the small ECG line on the screen, tense as he noted its irregular pattern. His eyes flicked briefly to the other line—the one that hadn't moved in over two weeks and still showed no signs of coming back to life.

"I will. Uh, Hjálmarr, is it normal that his magic still hasn't returned?" Tony snapped his fingers in the direction of the unmoving line he had been observing.

The healer grimaced. "The Brydda was inside his body for a very long time. I have too little data to determine how that affects a magical being. I don't know how long it will take for his magic to return." Or if it ever would, Tony read between the lines.

He looked worriedly at his god. Would Loki even survive without his magic? It was a part of him.

Tony gently stroked Loki's head and abruptly changed the subject. "Can I take him into the shower with me?"

Loki's hair had lost its usual shine, and Tony couldn't get the flowing mane clean with just sponge baths. But that wasn't the only reason—he knew from experience how filthy one felt after captivity and torture…

The healer looked at him in surprise, thought for a moment, then turned to his right toward a massive wooden door. He opened it, and Tony stared into the most insane bathroom he had ever seen.

It was half bath, half… what? A garden? A forest? The small courtyard measured about ten by ten meters and was partially covered. Dark green stone lined the walls and floor—at least until it gave way to grass and forest soil. Sunlight filtered through a few tall pine trees, illuminating a small pond. The crystal-clear water was steaming, and when Tony stepped closer, he realized the pond was also lined with those green stones.

"That's insane."

Hjálmarr chuckled beside him. "Yes, Loki has his preferences. I think you could take him into the hot spring. It would do him good, as the water helps him regenerate. Loki infused the spring with his own magic. Just be careful with the freshly healed wounds."

Tony pulled his hand from the pleasantly warm water—he could hardly wait to take a bath himself. "I'll take good care of him," he promised.

"I know," Hjálmarr smiled.

"I'll check on it tomorrow—it might be time to remove it soon, Stark," he added, gesturing toward Tony's chest. Tony waved it off, and when the healer finally left with a nod, Tony closed the large double doors and firmly locked them.

Finally alone.

He took a deep breath and, for the first time, properly took in Loki's chambers. Besides the bedroom and the amazing bathroom, there were three more rooms: another bedroom, a reception room, and a library. Everything was painted in a deep green, the few pieces of furniture were made of heavy, dark wood, and intricately carved. The library had a fireplace and bookshelves that reached the high ceiling.

"I like it," Tony murmured as he walked back into the bedroom over soft carpets. "You have good taste, babe. How about a nice hot bath later?"

He threw himself onto the soft bed and let out a loud groan. Oh god, this was heavenly! After two weeks on a hard hospital cot, this was paradise on earth.

"Your bed is incredible, and not just because you're lying in it," he added. The ECG line spiked with a soft beep, and Tony snorted.

"And tonight, we're cuddling—don't think for a second you get to keep this big bed all to yourself. I'm not sleeping in the guest room," he teased, earning an excited beeping from the ECG in response.

He grinned, satisfied. "So, you like that, huh?" Beep, beep, beep. Tony rolled onto his side next to his mate and pressed a kiss behind Loki's ear. Yeah, this was so much better than the hospital wing.

"I'm just going to step into your insane bathroom and fix my beard. I'll leave the door open so I can keep an eye on you, so don't get any funny ideas." Beep, beep.

Tony wasn't even finished shaving when there was a quiet knock at the large double doors.

Not even an hour, and they were already bothering him again.

Tony preferred being alone, filling the silence with sounds of his own choosing rather than being surrounded by chatty people. That was another reason he had pushed so hard to move Loki. In the hospital wing, you were never truly alone.

With a towel slung over his shoulder, he opened the door and found himself face-to-face with Loki's mother. Frigga smiled at him.

"Sorry to disturb you, Tony, I just wanted to bring you the book we talked about the other day."

He stepped aside to let the queen in.

"Oh, thank you." He took the book, turning it curiously in his hands.

"How do you like my son's chambers?" Frigga had already made her way into the large bedroom, standing by Loki's side.

"I think it's nice here. One more night on that hard hospital cot, and I would've needed a hospital bed myself," he joked.

Frigga huffed in amusement. "I see you're well taken care of. If you need anything, let me know. I'll leave you two alone now."

She pressed a kiss to Loki's forehead and stroked his cheek. "I just wanted to check on him and bring you the book."

Tony smiled gratefully as he saw her out.

"Alright, babe, the pool party can start," he called through the now nearly darkened rooms. He should probably start lighting the candles scattered everywhere—there didn't seem to be light bulbs in Asgard, despite all the advanced technology in the hospital wing. But the flickering candlelight did create a cozy atmosphere, he had to admit.

A little while later, Tony stepped into the hot spring with his god in his arms. As the warm water enveloped him, he let out a satisfied groan.

On one side of the pond, he spotted a few stone steps and lowered himself onto them, still holding Loki. "Nice spot you've got here," he purred contentedly, beginning to fan out Loki's hair in the warm water.

He saw faint red streaks still swirling in the water. He would wash away all the dirt. No trace of the nightmare Loki had endured would remain.

"Alright, Rapunzel, let's get that hair down."

Two hours and four pairs of wrinkled hands later, Tony had tucked his god back into bed.

He quickly checked the readings on the monitoring screen and then let himself collapse next to Loki, exhausted but deeply satisfied.

He had simply pulled one of his own boxers onto Loki and nothing else. The hospital gown had been discarded. It was the best option since underwear apparently hadn't been invented in Asgard. Besides, Loki was being dressed and undressed all day anyway, with someone always wanting to check something. This was just easier, Tony decided.

He studied the pale skin of his partner, examining every inch. Finally, he ran his fingertips over the scars that stretched across his body like a map.

Loki had become thin. His muscular torso was still beautifully defined but looked strangely fragile. According to Hjálmarr, Asgardians could survive up to a year without food.

Tony hoped it wouldn't take a year for his god to wake up. He was starting to miss him, even though he was lying right next to him.

He wanted to hear his voice again, that annoyed huff whenever Tony said something ridiculous. The strong arms that held him at night. The cool forehead pressed against his own. He wanted to look into those green eyes again and forget the world around him.

He sighed deeply and pressed a kiss to Loki's lips.

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

Tony grinned lovingly at his god and glanced briefly at the screen. His eyes flicked over the display and stopped on the magic line—still nothing.

Let's see about that, he thought and reached for the book Frigga had given him.

He pulled the blanket up around Loki, making sure he was comfortable, then scooted closer and placed Loki's hand on his own thigh. Physical contact was important, and judging by the beeping, Loki could definitely perceive it.

Tony's grin widened. "My hands are full right now, so you'll have to take over for a bit, babe."

Was that a slight pressure on his leg? That couldn't be, could it? He shook his head and reached for his Iron Man helmet.

The book was written in Old Norse, so he needed JARVIS to translate. He began scanning the pages one by one, letting his AI process and read them out to him.

The book title sounded promising, Tony thought: "On Bonds and Magical Ties."

He had asked Frigga if Loki's magic could simply be called back. Like, "Uh, hello? The threat is gone, your master needs you back." The queen had doubted it but had promised to find a specific book for him.

Maybe the bond could help locate Loki's magic—just as it had been possible to find Loki himself back then.

When he finished scanning, Tony took off the helmet and let JARVIS work. He took Loki's arm, stretched it out to the side, slid down onto his pillow, and nestled himself into the curve of Loki's side.

"Gotta do everything myself," he murmured, earning a beep from the monitor. Tony nudged Loki's side with his butt and grinned.

"Sir, the translation is complete. Shall I project it for you?" JARVIS's soft voice came from the helmet.

Tony really needed to figure out how to install the AI in Loki's rooms. "Go ahead, Jarv. Also, make a list of what I'd need to set you up here."

"Of course, Sir."

A screen flickered to life above Tony's head, and he began reading "On Bonds and Magical Ties." With each page, Tony's eyes grew wider, until his mouth dropped open in disbelief.

You've got to be kidding me!

"You little bastard," he muttered toward Loki, stunned. He read the passage again.

"Jarv, are you absolutely sure this translation is correct?"

"I have verified it three times, Sir."

Damn it, Loki! Why hadn't he mentioned this?

"…Magical bonds, which are extremely rare, are said to be the strongest connection two individuals can share… Visible to all, it marks the partner as one's own… It only ceases upon death… Possible even with non-magical beings… Feelings and emotions are shared between the individuals… This can initially lead to emotional imbalance… Deep, profound love… Magic cannot be transferred…"

Tony swallowed hard and looked at his god.

Had Loki known about this when they discovered what his magic had done that night?

Tony strongly suspected he had. He remembered that look Loki had exchanged with Thor back then. And Loki hadn't said a single word about this when he had asked Tony to reinforce the bond. Not a single mention that it was practically like slipping a metaphorical ring onto Tony's finger.

For fuck's sake! One moment of making out in a complete crisis, and he wakes up with a goddamn wedding band on his soul.

Tony Stark wasn't someone for commitments, but he had gone along with this because it had felt right. It still felt right. But it would've been nice to at least be asked.

"Oh, just wait until you wake up," he growled, glaring at the sleeping god beside him.

Well, it was too late now. It was written here in black and white.

Tony didn't want to think about what all of this meant for him right now. He wanted to try something else described in the book.

He sat up and pulled back the blanket.

"Jarv, can you read me Chapter 11? The passage on magic-calling, please."

The AI complied, and Tony placed both hands on Loki's chest, closing his eyes.

Apt-r-kal-a, he thought, repeating the mantra in his mind over and over.

The ritual was clearly described. Bonded individuals could summon each other's magic if it was lost. The partner had to touch the other and focus on their magic while thinking the words.

Tony didn't have magic of his own, but he focused on how it always felt when Loki used his. It was worth a try.

He was sure Loki would wake up once his power returned.

After the revelations of the evening, he didn't just miss Loki—he had a serious bone to pick with him. But the longing for his partner outweighed everything else.

He continued the ritual.

When he finally opened his eyes again, nothing had changed. The magic line remained flat.

"Oh, come on." Frustrated, Tony flopped back down beside Loki.

"Hey, Tinkerbell, if you can hear me, come back. He needs you," he whispered against Loki's chest. "And I miss my little green firefly."

He'd try again tomorrow.

Tony snuggled back against his god and pulled the blanket up to their noses. He kept his hand resting on Loki's chest. Feeling his heartbeat beneath his fingers had a calming effect on him, and he eventually drifted into a peaceful sleep.

A few hours later, unnoticed, a faint green glow flickered back to life between hand and chest.

Loki felt his magic returning—finally.

The darkness had not been as dreadful as he had feared. His mortal had filled the silence with his voice and his touch—just as he had promised.

Now, Loki sensed himself awakening from the healing sleep; his body had merely awaited the return of his magic.

Blinking, he opened his eyes and gazed at the ceiling of his own chambers. So, he hadn't imagined the warm water on his skin. Tony had indeed brought him to his own quarters and joined him in the hot spring.

He felt the warm body beside him and turned his head.

There he was, his beloved. He lay on Loki's outstretched arm, nestled against his side, his face buried in his chest. Loki had sensed how Tony had tried to summon his magic through the bond—it had apparently worked.

It meant more to him than he could ever express. "Thank you, my love," he whispered with a hoarse voice, turned onto his side, and pulled his mortal into a tight embrace.

Tony slowly awoke from a deep, restful sleep. He luxuriated in the warmth that seemed to surround him. Strong arms held him close, and a leg was tangled with his own. Soft fingertips traced gentle patterns along his back…

Wait!

Tony held his breath and slowly looked up.

Green eyes met his, and his god smirked at him mischievously. "Good morning, my love."

Tony tried to sit up, but those strong arms kept him firmly in place. "How… what… Loki!" he stammered. But before he could say more, he was pulled into a tender kiss—one he quickly deepened with fervor.

He was awake!

Had the magic call actually worked yesterday?

"I missed you," Tony whispered softly when they finally parted.

Loki couldn't take his eyes off him as he murmured in agreement, "I missed you too, my love."

He pulled Tony against his chest again, holding him so tightly it felt as if he wanted to fuse their bodies together. Tony let him, relishing the feel of his very much alive body.

Very alive, he noted a moment later. Unbelievable! Tony let his fingers glide down Loki's back, then grabbed a handful of his ass.

"Oh, you did, huh? And what exactly do you think you're doing, 'Mister Just-Risen-From-The-Dead'?"

His god sighed contentedly and looked at him with feigned innocence. What followed was breathtaking—and definitely not PG-rated.

Breathless and sweaty, they lay tangled together on the soft mattress sometime later.

"Huhh, that… that was good," Tony finally managed.

Loki raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely offended. "Good?"

Tony snuggled against him. "My brain is still in nirvana, babe. How about mind-blowing, fantastic, out of this world, breathtaking, fabulous, phenomenal?"

This earned a satisfied expression from Loki, and Tony burst out laughing.

Then the crucial question returned to him. "Is your magic back?"

A devious smirk played on Loki's lips as he pulled him even closer.

"Wait, what—?" That was as far as Tony got before they vanished into thin air, reappearing a heartbeat later with a loud splash in warm water.

Spluttering, he surfaced and glared at his god, who was happily splashing around in the pool. "A simple YES would have sufficed! You ruined my hair!"

Loki grinned and dove underwater, swimming toward Tony. He watched, mesmerized, as his god's sleek body moved effortlessly through the crystal-clear water, framed by the dark cloud of his floating hair.

Then Loki was there, surfacing against him, rubbing his body along Tony's, kissing him, and lifting him up.

Reflexively, Tony wrapped his legs around Loki's waist and his arms around his shoulders. It was all so seamless, like a perfectly rehearsed choreography, shot through Tony's mind. His body moved without any conscious thought at all.

They shouldn't do that, Loki had just woken up from a long healing sleep and... He couldn't think any further because Loki entered him for the second time and made him forget everything else.

He groaned loudly and clinched to his god. This was pure bliss. How could those hands be everywhere at once, he wondered, before a massive wave swept him away and he dissolved in Loki's hands.

He threw his head back and Loki took the chance, licking and kissing his neck until he bit into his collarbone and climaxed himself with quick, deep thrusts.

But his god's hunger seemed by no means satisfied. A greedy tongue demanded entry into Tony's mouth, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He didn't even want to—he wanted this man just as much as he wanted him.

He wriggled out of Loki's grasp and pushed him to the edge of the pool towards the stone steps, twisting the writhing body and pinning him there. He stroked forward along Loki's side and found what he was looking for.

"Anthony," gasped his god.

That one word was enough and Tony let go of all restraint. He pushed himself into his lover and bit his shoulder. Moving with deep, urgent thrusts, Loki groaned loudly and dug his fingers into the soft earth on the bank.

It wasn't long before his god came with a huge tremor in his hand, and Tony followed shortly after. He fell heavily onto Loki's back, his god's trembling continuing through his own body.

"Ek ann þér, babe," he whispered in Loki's ear and bit his shoulder again.

Marked his favorite spot. Even though he knew that the mark would soon fade with the returning magic. He felt his god shudder beneath him at those words and smiled contentedly into his shoulder.

What had they just done? In an instant, that rush had returned, sweeping them both away—at an insane speed.

That's how it had always been. Everything happened so incredibly fast. But this wasn't just wild, passionate sex. There had been an exploring, a recognition, and a confirmation in every touch.

Tony once again felt as though something deep inside him had fallen into the right place.

What exactly was written in the book again? Feelings and emotions are shared between the individuals. That would explain why everything felt so incredibly intense and magnified.

It would also explain why he had been so emotional since that night in the Stark Tower sickroom: This can lead to an emotional imbalance at first.

Yeah, if he was not only perceiving his own feelings but also Loki's... A satisfied "Hmmhh" pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Good?" he asked, receiving a thrust from a damn firm ass against his loins. Very good!

"I think you'll have to carry me, Anthony, I can't feel my legs anymore," Loki murmured over his shoulder.

With a flick of his wrist, Tony turned his god towards him and kissed him. "Ohh you... will you shut up" He wrapped Loki's legs around his waist and lifted him up. "Come here, you..."

In the end, he really did carry him back to bed, as Loki still couldn't put weight on his left leg.

With a twinge of guilt, Tony noticed that the leg had started bleeding again. The wounds caused by the Brydda were healing damn slowly.

"Don't you dare tell Hjálmarr what we just did. He'll kill me, and probably you too," Tony said, just as he was getting dressed.

There was a knock at the door, and the aforementioned healer asked to come in for the morning rounds.

When he saw Loki sitting up in bed, he completely lost it—by his standards. "General!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, rushing toward Loki in a decidedly ungraceful manner and grabbing his hands.

"Old friend," Loki greeted him, allowing the healer to pull him into the Asgardian forehead gesture.

Tony was stunned. Hjálmarr had told him that he'd fought under Loki in Vanaheim and had known him for a long time, but this seemed like an understatement. It looked like these two healers were more than just battle brothers.

He decided to give the friends a moment and mumbled something about going to look for Thor and the royal family.

The day passed in joyful reunions. Before he knew it, evening had arrived, and Tony was sitting at an improvised banquet table in Loki's reception room. The table was laden with lavish food, and mead flowed in generous quantities.

The feeling of inner tension slowly fell away. Tony only then realized how much the whole situation had been weighing on him.

He raised a toast to his god across the table and gave him a wide smile. Loki's response seemed tense. Tony could see it, and not only that, he could feel it too.

Since Loki had woken up and Tony had read Frigga's book, he had been practicing assigning the emotions he was experiencing.

He thought he was already pretty good at distinguishing which feelings were his own and which ones were Loki's—considering he had only been trying for just under a day.

Loki's feelings felt somehow warm and green. He didn't know how else to describe it.

Now, he wondered what the cause of his god's unrest was. At the large table sat only Loki's family and himself.

He glanced around subtly. Ah, of course—Dad was the problem. To Tony, Odin appeared friendly, although he said very little.

Tony looked at the Allfather from the corner of his eye and realized that Odin was observing his son closely. Loki seemed uncomfortable under his gaze. His movements were jittery, and he stared stubbornly at his plate. In a silent plea, he cast a glance at his brother.

Thor promptly tried to draw attention to another topic—away from Loki—and turned to Tony.

"Well, Friend Stark, it's been almost two months, and all you've seen of Asgard are my brother's chambers and the infirmary. Would you be interested in seeing the city tomorrow? I'd love to show you everything." He smiled broadly at Tony.

The Thunder God was right, and Tony was certainly curious about the city of the gods.

"Yeah, sure, big guy," he replied after a quick look at Loki, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

"Wonderful, then my son might have time to speak with me tomorrow," Odin threw in, directing his comment at Loki.

Loki stiffened but nodded. "As you wish, Allfather."

Frigga finally ended the round by announcing she was tired.

Soon after, they were alone again, and Tony stepped out onto the small balcony of their bedroom. "Okay, are you going to tell me what's bothering you, or are we going to pretend nothing's wrong?" He wrapped his arms around Loki's waist and rested his head against his back.

His god leaned against him, took a deep breath, and exhaled with a soft sigh. "I fear I know what my father wants to discuss with me." Tony remained silent, waiting for him to continue. "I'm curious to know what punishment he has planned for me this time."

Tony lifted his head from Loki's back. "What punishment? For what?" He was confused. What was his god talking about?

"Midgard," Loki simply said.

"But wasn't your punishment working with the Avengers? And anyway, it wasn't even your fault, you were controlled." That was ridiculous.

Odin had asked Tony to recount the events of their abduction in detail, and he hadn't sounded angry—more worried, actually.

Loki snorted. "Most of the time, he doesn't care what my motivations are or whether it was really my fault."

Tony pulled away from Loki and stood at his side. His god let his shoulders slump and avoided his gaze. "Before Midgard, I might've also attempted something against Jotunheim," he murmured quietly.

"My brother stopped me, and then I let myself fall into the darkness from the Bifröst." That was new, but Tony said nothing in response. "Surely there will be consequences for Jotunheim, if not for Midgard."

They both looked down at the sleeping city beneath them. "You never told me what happened," Tony said quietly.

"I'm not proud of what I did," Loki replied, still avoiding his gaze. "I had just learned where I truly come from and what I am."

He stared at his hands and began to speak in a quiet voice about what had happened. "I'm a monster, and he will punish me, I know it," he concluded sadly.

Tony placed his hand on Loki's, which was gripping the balcony railing. "You're not a monster, babe," he said simply.

Loki looked at him attentively. "You've never seen me in my true form. You can't know."

Tony tilted his head and said, "Show it to me, and let me decide for myself."

Loki just shook his head. "I can't. The Allfather placed a spell on me to conceal my true form. Apparently, it's still strong enough that even the Brydda couldn't break it. I thought I'd transform in the Shadow realm when my magic disappeared, but..."

Tony nodded but then asked, "So how do you know you're a Jotun?"

Loki took a deep breath. "When one of the Frost Giants touched me in battle, my hand turned blue. It wouldn't leave my mind, so I went to the treasury to look for an old artifact from Jotunheim. When I touched it, I started to transform. Then Odin found me, and everything went south from there." Tony turned fully to the sad god beside him and stroked his back.

"Why are you worrying about it now? You don't even know what your father wants to talk about. Just let it happen."

Loki looked up in surprise. "You... you're not judging me?" He sounded incredulous, as if he expected Tony to storm off after this confession.

Tony shrugged. "Why would I? Everyone has a past." Besides, it sounds like you just snapped because they weren't honest with you from the start, he thought. And because they raised you to believe that Frost Giants were monsters, only for you to find out you were one yourself.

That fact would've broken anyone. Who was he to judge Loki? He didn't even know what he would've done in that situation.

"Besides, babe, you're still you, no matter the form." He pulled Loki close and kissed him.

"Let's get some sleep."

Chapter 15 / A Pub Crawl in Asgard

He slept poorly, waking up repeatedly from nightmares, each time comforted by his mortal. How Tony could sleep next to him, when he kept tossing and turning, was a mystery to Loki.

Loki lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. The blankets beside him rustled, and a warm arm draped over his chest. Despite the dark thoughts in his mind, he couldn't help but smile when he felt the warm breath on his chest.

Tony snuggled into his usual spot at Loki's side and murmured, "Can you finally stop thinking about what tomorrow will bring? I can already smell the smoke."

Loki sighed heavily and tried to clear his mind. It didn't work, and in frustration, he turned his head to the side. Tony possessively draped a leg over Loki's and pinned him to the bed, planting a kiss on his chest right where his head had been.

"Try to sleep, babe, you're driving me all fuzzy." Loki had no idea what that meant, but he tried, he really tried.

Finally, Tony sighed loudly. "For God's sake!" He rolled on top of Loki and pinned him down with his arms and legs, so that Loki couldn't move.

"What are you doing?" Loki asked, surprised. He had tried to lie still.

Tony growled at him, "I can feel your restlessness, I can sense what you're feeling."

Loki looked at him confused. "What do you mean?"

Tony grinned at him. "The bond, Loki. I feel what you feel – did you forget? You must've read that book too." His mortal glanced over at his nightstand, where the book "On Bonds and Magical Ties" still lay.

Embarrassed, Loki looked at the book's spine. Yes, he had read it, a long time ago. Back then, when he had been considering entering into a bond with his then-partner, before that one fell on the battlefield.

Loki felt guilty because Tony had learned everything he needed to know from a book and not from Loki's own mouth. The confession had always been postponed, and then there had been no time left to explain.

He kept his gaze fixed on the spine of the book, afraid to look at his partner, scared of the accusing gaze.

Tony shifted his position on him, grabbing Loki's wrists with one hand and pinning them above his head onto the mattress. Loki felt his chin being gently turned, and he looked into brown eyes that weren't accusing at all, but rather determined.

"You leave me no choice but to distract you," Tony said before kissing him and making him forget everything around him. Oh, this works really well. Loki gasped for air when Tony pulled away, still leaning deeply over him.

He wanted more of this, didn't want to think anymore, didn't want to torture himself any longer. Loki leaned upwards, but Tony held him back. He arched up, twisting in the iron grip of his mortal.

"Better, isn't it?" Tony asked with a devilish grin on his face. "Let's see…" He jerked his hips forward and Loki sucked in a sharp breath, feeling his desire awakening.

After a moment, Tony leaned down and kissed and nibbled on his neck, eliciting sweet moans from him. When his lips finally pressed against Loki's again and his tongue demanded entrance, the world finally ceased to exist.

Tony made him forget everything. He gave him peace and let the voices in his head quiet down. It had always been this way, and Loki was grateful for it.

Breathing heavily, they lay side by side afterwards, and Loki felt himself slowly slipping into sleep. He pulled his mortal close to him.

"Thank you," he whispered into the brown hair. "Hmmm," came the sleepy reply before they both drifted into a dreamless sleep.

The restlessness didn't return until the morning, after his brother had picked up Tony for the sightseeing tour through Asgard. Thor had said that their father would come to Loki's chambers. It was strange, though, because if the Allfather wanted to judge Loki, that would have to happen in the throne room. Perhaps Tony was right, and it wouldn't be as bad as he feared.

Impatient, he paced around his rooms. He couldn't stand it for long, as his left leg still ached. Hjálmarr had bandaged it again yesterday and noted that the wound still wasn't healing. Loki couldn't feel the two spots where his leg had been pierced, and he hobbled more than walked. But he pushed the thought aside when there was a knock at his door, and Odin asked to enter.

They sat down in the cozy corner of the library, near the open fireplace. With a quick snap of his fingers, Loki made a pleasant fire blaze up, filling the room with soft light.

"Well, what did you want to talk to me about, Father?" Loki emphasized the last word. It felt strange to call this man "Father," now that he knew the truth.

Odin raised an eyebrow, clearly having noticed what Loki meant. "That's exactly what I wanted to talk about," he said calmly. "You had some questions when we last met, and I wasn't able to answer them. I'd like to make up for that."

Loki tilted his head in surprise. "Oh," was all he could say. This was the last thing he had expected. Odin wanted to explain himself? When his brother had brought him this message months ago, Loki had thought it was a joke, but clearly, the Allfather had been serious.

"You were an innocent baby when I found you. Left on a stone in a harsh wilderness, far from the battlefield," Odin began. "I took you in, on an impulse I couldn't explain at the time. There was nothing calculated about it, I swear. It was compassion for a forsaken creature that cried and longed for warmth. I did my best to give you that warmth, Loki. But the older you got, the more I seemed to fail. I'm sorry, my son."

Loki was speechless. What was happening here? He couldn't banish the pain from his voice as he asked, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Odin looked as though the weight of all nine realms rested on his shoulders. "I didn't want to lose you," he said in a cracked voice, and Loki was struck as if by thunder.

"I feared you would turn away from me if you knew where you truly came from. You were a young man, and like all young men, you were angry at your father. The one who always seemed to wrong you in your eyes," Odin continued.

"I did everything to the best of my ability to give you what you needed. I tried to teach you what it meant to be a man, a prince. To carry responsibility and to lead."

Loki was silent, staring at the king before him, who looked back at him with tired eyes. "I'm tired of fighting, my son. You have every right to be angry with this old man, but know…" and a spark flickered in those tired eyes, "…I've always been proud of you."

A heavy silence fell over the room, only broken by the crackling of the fire.

It took a long time for Loki to find his words. "I always felt like you favored Thor, like nothing I did could ever be right. I always felt like I was wrong," he stared at his clenched fists.

Odin stood up and knelt before his son, taking his clenched hands in his own. Loki flinched and held his breath.

"I'm sorry, Loki. I was too hard on you, I know that now. But I wanted to prepare you for your task, I wanted to make you strong. Forgive me," the Allfather pleaded on his knees.

Loki's throat tightened as he felt hot tears on his cheeks. He had never heard such words from this man's mouth.

His father pulled him into a brief embrace and then rested his forehead against his. "You're not wrong, son. You may not have my blood, but you are my son, just as Frigga's, and you are Thor's brother. You belong in Asgard."

Loki opened his fists and pressed his father's hands. "Thank you," he choked out. Odin stood up and nodded at him with a smile.

"Thank you for listening to me. Think about what I said. When you're ready, come with your brother to me, we have much to discuss."

With that, he left Loki, still confused, by the fire.

"And over there are the royal stables. Would you like to see them?" Thor was simply a great tour guide, Tony thought, trying to keep up with the Thunder God. There wasn't a spot in Asgard he hadn't seen today.

"Sure, but how about a quick break first? I must have already walked 100 kilometers." When Thor only furrowed his brow, Tony added, "We've covered quite a distance. Give my feet a break, big guy." The god laughed and led Tony to a nearby tavern. They sat on one of the benches outside.

While Thor went inside to organize drinks, Tony enjoyed the sunshine with his eyes closed. They had been on the move all day. The observatory had probably been his favorite part. Tony was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the large Aesir who approached him. It wasn't until a shadow fell across his face that he opened one eye. The man was studying him curiously.

"Uh, can I help you somehow?" Tony asked, blinking in the fading sunlight.

"Forgive me, milord, but are you the man of iron?" Tony just nodded. The Aesir thumped his chest with his fist and gave a slight bow.

"My name is Carr, milord." He seemed to be waiting for a reply, so Tony stood up and extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Carr. I'm Tony. What can I do for you?" The man looked confused but shook the offered hand. "That's how you greet someone on Midgard," Tony explained, and Carr gave him a smile.

"You're the companion of the general, right?" he asked in his deep, calm voice. When Tony confirmed, he continued, "I heard he has awakened from the healing sleep. How is he?" He sounded genuinely concerned and furrowed his brow.

Tony could imagine the source of this information. He only knew one healer who also referred to Loki as "general." Hjálmarr had become a friend by now. If he trusted Carr, then he was okay. So, Tony readily shared the information.

Carr sighed with relief when he heard that Loki was doing well. And when Thor came out of the tavern with two well-filled mugs of mead, he greeted him like an old friend. "Friend Carr, long time no see." He embraced the man warmly. "What brings you to this area? Sit and drink with us."

Carr graciously accepted the invitation. "I wanted to ask the man of iron for a favor." He sat down and pulled a bundle out of his bag. "Could you make sure that the general gets this?"

He gently slid the bundle toward Tony.

"Uh, sure. What is it?" Tony, ever curious, was already feeling the bundle when Carr smiled and gestured for him to open it.

He unfolded the cloth, and a beautifully crafted dagger appeared. He lifted it and examined the elegant weapon. The blade was wavy and about 30 cm long, made of polished steel with an intricately designed hilt.

Tony looked closer and recognized a small plant with jagged leaves and a strangely shaped flower. It looked like a pumpkin with a snake's head. The plant seemed familiar.

"Rhinanthus minor," Carr said as Tony brushed his fingers over the engraving. "Also known as Loki's purse," he laughed and extended his hand. "May I?" He took the dagger and placed it on his index finger. "Perfectly balanced." He spun it around in his hand and held it out to Tony with the hilt facing him.

"Impressive," Tony said, accepting the weapon and wrapping it back in the cloth.

"It's a gift from his guard. Could you please pass it on to him?" Tony looked surprised, first at Carr, then at Thor, who was smiling at him. Guard?

"Uh, yeah, of course." Carr smiled gratefully at him.

"Vanaheim, friend Stark," Thor explained eventually, as Tony still looked confused.

"Could someone please enlighten me about Vanaheim? I keep hearing bits and pieces of the story." With that, Tony had opened Pandora's box.

It ended with them being surrounded by a crowd, telling war stories.

Tony learned all about the battle in Vanaheim. About the royal guard that both Thor and Loki had as princes of Asgard. About how Loki had personally carried his severely injured brother off the battlefield. And about the hard-fought victory, along with the losses.

The tavern seemed popular with soldiers, as more and more former fighters joined in with their own stories.

When the gathered crowd called on Tony to tell his own story, he was right in his element. With Thor's help, he recounted the battle against the Chitauri and the Majutas.

Tony was a gifted entertainer, he knew that. He enjoyed the attention of the Aesir, who seemed to like him.

In his story, Loki took on the hero role alongside Iron Man, and people started whispering excitedly.

Another jug of mead was handed to him. "To the man of iron and Loki!" Thor shouted, and the crowd joined in. "To fire and ice!" someone else called out, and the Aesir eagerly adopted the nickname. Fire and ice, I like that, Tony thought contentedly and toasted the crowd with a grin. "To Loki."

The evening wore on, bringing even more guests to their table. Thor's friends showed up, and he proudly introduced Tony to the warriors Hogun, Volstagg, and Fandral, as well as Lady Sif.

"Nice to meet you," Tony nodded to the men and kissed Sif's hand.

"The pleasure is all ours," Fandral replied with a soft voice. There was something about this man that made Tony shiver.

More stories were told. Tony noticed that Thor's friends didn't speak directly disparagingly of Loki, but if you read between the lines, he could tell that Lady Sif and Hogun were not fans of his companion.

When Carr eventually stood up, Tony walked a few steps with him and shook the soldier's hand again to say goodbye.

He turned around and found himself face to face with Fandral. The man was about the same height as Tony, with slightly wavy blonde hair and a slender build. His face somehow resembled that of a fox, Tony thought, as clever blue eyes fixed on him.

The handsome warrior awkwardly bowed to him. "Send my regards to the general, Stark," he said, and the sentence dripped with sarcasm.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Thanks, Goldilocks, I'll do that," he shot back. A nasty smile appeared on the man's face, and as Tony walked past him, he whispered:

"Looks like Loki managed to pull someone onto his side. Interesting that he chose a mortal." He smiled mockingly. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into. After all..."

Tony spun around and glared at Fandral. The man just laughed and raised his hands defensively.

"...he's good in bed, isn't he?" he added, watching Tony's reaction. "I've had the pleasure more than once, you know," he continued when Tony didn't respond.

So, that's it, a jealous ex. Fandral took a step closer and whispered nastily, "The little prince has his talents – but I bet you've already figured out which of those are especially useful."

Tony's hand shot forward and grabbed Fandral's collar. "What did you just say?" he hissed, pressing the warrior against the nearest wall.

He didn't care if anyone was watching; he couldn't tolerate this any longer. No one would speak about Loki like that in his presence.

The Aesir's eyes widened in surprise. Apparently, he hadn't expected this reaction.

"Sorry if I offended you, Stark," the man gasped, trying to push Tony away.

"Do you have anything else to say about my companion?" His tone was cutting, and he held the warrior effortlessly against the wall. The man was now red in the face and gasping for air.

"No?" He released him and took a step back.

"Good. When we're done here, I'd like to return to my seat." He turned and left Fandral standing there. Halfway down the way, he turned back one last time: "Oh, and if you want to keep your pretty head, I'd keep that mouth of yours shut. I don't tolerate anyone speaking about my god like that." He gave the man a cold smile.

Tony was shaking with rage when he dropped back onto the bench next to Thor. Gratefully, he took a new jug of alcohol and held onto it. What an asshole! Okay, Tony, deep breath. The festive atmosphere around him and the mead calmed him. He tried to forget the incident. After all, he was Tony Stark, the master of suppression.

Drunk from the alcohol, they eventually made their way back to the palace. Suddenly, Tony had an idea and stopped Thor on the palace steps. "How obvious is it?" he slurred.

Thor tried to focus his gaze. "Wh...what do you mean, Stark?" the Thunder God asked.

"The bond, Thor. How obvious is it to you damn Aesir?"

The god grinned at him as he understood. "Well, I think everyone tonight saw to whom you belong." He chuckled. "No one touched you, right?"

Great, Tony thought, I'm walking through the city with a stamp on my forehead saying, 'Property of Loki Odinson.' Then he thought of something else.

"Great. And why did people suddenly start whispering when we told our stories?" he asked, annoyed with the chuckling god.

"Oh, Loki's not particularly popular in Asgard," Thor said dryly. "Or rather, he wasn't... They distrust him, but their opinion seems to be changing. They know they owe their salvation from the Majutas to him. I made sure of that. And our stories today will spread quickly." He grinned at Tony foolishly, and Tony grinned back just as foolishly. Mission accomplished.

"Let me take you back, friend Stark. I'll draw Loki's wrath onto me, then you can find yourself a nice hiding spot." Tony laughed all the way up to Loki's chambers.

His god had not been pleased at all when two drunk men had stumbled through his door. "Did you tour the city or just go on a pub crawl?" he had asked angrily.

Thor had, as promised, taken all the blame, and Loki had eventually thrown his brother out of his chambers. Tony was unceremoniously shoved into bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

He woke up in a dark room, with a warm body surrounding him. So Loki wasn't angry enough to make him sleep in the guest room.

He inhaled the comforting scent of pine and leather and sighed deeply. What were the chances of finding any Aspirin in Asgard?

Loki seemed to read his thoughts, as a second later, he felt gentle fingertips on his temple. The headache disappeared, and Tony cuddled closer to his god.

Loki snorted. "What are you going to do when I leave you alone again today?" he asked in a stern tone.

Tony blinked at him innocently. "It wasn't my fault, Thor..." He was interrupted by an exasperated "Oh, please."

"Hey, a guy deserves to get properly drunk after months of worrying about you!" Tony protested, earning a venomous glare.

"Fine, but maybe next time you can ask me if I'd like to join in," came the surprising reply.

Was his god... jealous? He placed a kiss directly on Loki's chest and ran his hand over the muscular back.

"Sorry, I..." Tony stopped mid-sentence when his hand landed on a bare buttock. Only now did he realize that he was also naked.

Loki's smile was wicked. "Punishment must be," he said, gripping him tighter, and Tony knew what was coming.

"No, wait do..." Once again, he was teleported into the warm waters of the hot spring. "You seem to enjoy this, don't you?" he asked, gasping, but was immediately dunked under the water.

"You smell like mead." Loki chased him through the clear water. Tony could feel his god's lust, and it mingled with his own.

"And what are you going to do about it?" he asked breathlessly. It was unfair to be thrown into the water and chased so abruptly after just waking up.

Then again, morning sex wasn't a bad way to start the day. Tony's back hit against the edge of the pool. He turned around as Loki arrived by his side. His god embraced him and pressed his body against his back.

"Hmm, I have an idea." Tony felt teeth digging into his shoulder, almost painfully. Hands slid down his sides and rested on his hips.

Ugh, his god was still pissed, this could get intense. He clung to the grass on the bank and waited for Loki's next move.

Tony sucked in a sharp breath as Loki painfully let go of his shoulder and went on to his neck. As he reached Tony's ear, a quiet voice whispered, "Shall I take you?"

Tony would have a heart attack right here, right now. He barely dared to move, his breathing quick and shallow with lust. "Yes..." he managed a breathy confirmation, and the tension between them exploded.

His God took him, without mercy, without hesitation—an all-consuming fire.

Tony lay on the shore of the lake, half-submerged in the water, his breath heavy as he struggled to recover from the overwhelming force that had just passed over him.

Had he truly begged for more?

His gaze wandered to the delicate yellow flowers scattered among the trees—Rhinanthus minor, he noted, though the fleeting memory barely made an impression against the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind.

Loki, breathing just as heavily, lay partially on top of him, pressing soft kisses to his neck. He hadn't pulled out of Tony yet, and was the reason for the storm in his mind.

He shifted slightly beneath the aforementioned force of nature, and it grunted in annoyance. "Hey, you're gonna crush me, Mister!"

With a frustrated snort, Loki slid back into the water, pulling Tony along with him. He tried to protest but gave up; he simply couldn't oppose his god.

Tony Stark, philanthropist, genius, playboy, billionaire, was utterly at the mercy of this man. And the truly strange thing was, he didn't mind at all. Sighing, he let himself float in the warm water with his god. Loki now gently stroke over Tony's bruised body, covering him in kisses.

"By the way, I told the tailor you'd be coming in today for measurements," Loki whispered casually against his neck.

Tony froze for a moment and then laughed. "Touché, are we square now?" Seriously, should he strip for someone else today?

After Loki had marked him so thoroughly that even a blind man could tell what they had just been up to, a satisfied hum came from the mischief-maker behind him.

Well, Tony had no problem with that. "And what will His Highness be up to today?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I'll be joining Thor at my father's." Tony noticed the shift in Loki's tone when he spoke the word "father."

"What did Odin want from you yesterday?" Tony asked, but his god had already detached himself from him and rose from the pool like a Greek god.

Tony watched, fascinated, as the water ran over Loki's alabaster-colored body. Loki smiled mischievously, fully aware of the effect he had on Tony. With a graceful turn, he gave Tony an unobstructed view of his perfect ass as he stepped out of the pool. Tony's mouth actually dropped open, and Loki laughed in satisfaction.

"I'll tell you everything tonight, when you're back to your clear-headed self."

Wait, what? Tony shook his head to clear it.

"Okay, then your gift will have to wait until tonight," he retorted, rising from the warm water himself.

He walked toward his god, shivering under Loki's gaze, which unabashedly skimmed over his naked body. Tony reached past him for his razor, careful to be as close as possible without touching him. He could play this game too.

Loki swallowed hard and lowered his gaze. "I'm very much looking forward to it," he breathed, looking utterly irresistible. Tony grinned widely; he really had hit the jackpot.

Loki's fingertips rested on Tony's chin and tilted it toward his lips. The kiss nearly drove him insane.

"See you later, my love," Loki whispered, leaving him alone in the bath with a final, resounding slap on Tony's bum.

Tony had to force the self-satisfied grin off his face in order to shave properly. While doing so, he went over his to-do list for the day.

First, to the tailor—he needed new clothes. Now that he was spending time outside of Loki's rooms, it became clear that he stood out in his earthly attire like a sore thumb. Let the man see the hickeys and bite marks, pfft. A small part of him was even proud of the marks.

Then, he had promised Hjálmarr to stop by the infirmary and let him take a look at the Arc Reactor.

Afterward, he wanted to visit a blacksmith. He had asked Carr yesterday where he had gotten the dagger made. The warrior had named the best blacksmith in Asgard.

After his conversation with Thor, Tony had come to one clear conclusion. He had no problem with everyone seeing that he belonged to Loki. What he did have a problem with was that no one saw that Loki belonged to him.

He simply didn't like it when others touched his things. Fandral's mocking grin appeared in his mind's eye, and he clenched his fists. If that jerk came at him one more time, he would put on his suit and…

Deep breaths, Tony. The guy was Thor's friend; he couldn't just impale him without provocation.

He pushed the dark thoughts away and replaced them with the memory of an alabaster ass. That brought his self-satisfied grin back, and he cheerfully made his way out.

The tailor was a quiet man. He did frown slightly when he took Tony's measurements, but otherwise, he said nothing about Tony's collection of hickeys.

Hjálmarr, on the other hand, was not so gracious.

"What in the Nine Realms have you two been up to? No, wait, I don't want to know." After another uncomfortable fifteen minutes, Tony was dismissed with a headshake and could finally make his way into the city.

As he wandered through the wide streets and narrow alleys, he made a new entry on his to-do list for tomorrow: "Get JARVIS an interface."

With the modern technology he'd seen in the infirmary, there had to be a way to get his AI working here. He missed his workshop.

Yes, this was Asgard, land of gods and all that, but it was also terribly boring. Unless you were either fearing for a god's life or getting fucked by that god, there was surprisingly little to do.

A loud hammering sound snapped him from his thoughts, and he followed the noise. Where there was a hammer, there was usually a blacksmith, right? He turned a corner, and bingo!

At the end of the narrow alley, he saw an open workshop with a large forge, its heat radiating from afar. A big, muscular Aesir was currently hammering a sword when Tony approached.

Tony waited until the man quenched the weapon and set it aside before addressing him. Never startle a giant with a hammer and sword in hand.

"Excuse the interruption, are you Völund?" The Aesir turned toward him and appraised him.

"That would be me, Stark, Man of Iron. How can I help you?"

How did everyone here know his name? Tony explained his request, and Völund nodded. "Sure, bring your plans by tomorrow, and I'll get the materials."

Great, that went better than expected. Tony made his way back to the palace in the fading sunlight.

Chapter 16: Daggers and Frost Giants

Loki sat in his favorite chair, lost in thought. He had been brooding for what felt like an eternity.

"Ha. By the gods." With a weary sigh, he rose to his feet.

He paced through his chambers, noticing the small changes: a carelessly discarded T-shirt here, a comb there, an empty glass, and the faint scent of sandalwood. All of it was proof that someone else lived here now, and Loki had to smile. Tony was messy, yes, but somehow, it made the rooms feel a little more like home.

Stepping through the archway onto the small bedroom balcony, he gazed over the city. Asgard. How would its inhabitants react once they learned what had just been decided behind the closed doors of the throne room?

He sighed again and leaned against the railing. His gaze drifted down to the cobblestone courtyard below, where he spotted a figure in faded jeans and a black AC/DC T-shirt.

His smile widened as he watched his companion walk through the courtyard with his usual effortless grace. Tony paused briefly to chat with one of the guards, his charming laughter carried upward by the wind. He ran a hand through his brown hair, and Loki could practically picture the beloved face with its perfectly trimmed beard.

His mortal took great care with his appearance—which made it all the more fun to teleport him straight into the water basin from time to time.

A warm breeze played with Loki's hair. He undid the knot that held it back, shook it out, and let the wind run through it. Closing his eyes, he savored the last rays of the setting sun.

It wasn't long before the large double doors to his chambers were flung open.

Enter Anthony Stark, Loki thought with a smile but remained where he was.

"I'm home, babe," his mortal called out, and Loki's smile softened. Home. Yes, where his mortal was, there was his home. It wouldn't matter where they were. At least, he hoped Tony saw it the same way.

A second later, strong arms wrapped around his waist, and a warm body pressed against his back. Loki inhaled deeply and leaned into the embrace.

"How was your day, babe? Any dumb hickey comments? Oh wait, that was me."

Loki could feel the grin on his mortal's face. He had known Tony wouldn't stay mad at him for too long. He had already noticed that the playboy didn't seem to be embarrassed by anything when it came to sex. And this morning… well, Loki had gotten a little carried away.

He hadn't been jealous of the drinking bout Thor had held with his mortal. Well, maybe a little bit. If he had been there himself, the night would have been far less debaucherous.

The Æsir respected him—at least as a prince and Thor's brother, yes. But they did not like him, and they made no effort to hide it. He had feared they would treat Tony with the same disdain. But, thank the gods, his concerns seemed to be unfounded.

Now, thinking back on it, the Allfather's plan seemed doomed to fail.

He couldn't dwell on it any longer, though, because Tony suddenly spun him around, pressing him back against the railing. Warm brown eyes searching his face, and when he said nothing, Tony simply pulled him into a breath-stealing kiss.

"You look worried, babe. What happened?" his mortal whispered against his lips.

Where to even begin?

"Well, today's meeting was... interesting," Loki started. Tony simply looked at him expectantly, so he continued, "First, my father wishes to hold a triumphal procession in honor of the victory over the Majutas." After a brief hesitation, he added quietly, "And in my honor."

Tony's face lit up. "A party?! That sounds great, babe. You deserve it."

Loki eyed him doubtfully. "I'm not so sure it's a good idea to force the Æsir to cheer for someone they despise."

Tony frowned. "You saved their asses. And Midgard's, too. I think you deserve a parade." He rubbed his chin. "I should talk to Fury or, even better, the President. We need to get you a statue."

Okay, now he was definitely being teased. Loki shot his mortal a glare. Tony only smiled at him innocently. "What else?" he asked simply.

"Odin…" How best to phrase this? "My father wishes to abdicate," he finally said, watching as Tony blinked in surprise. "He wants Thor on the throne and me by my brother's side as the Royal Representative of Asgard."

Tony stepped back slightly to look at him better but didn't let go. "That… that… wow." His mortal was at a loss for words, and Loki couldn't blame him.

A few hours ago, he had felt the same when he had been blindsided in the throne room. In fact, it seemed as if his brother and the All-Father had planned this for quite some time and had already made their final decision. Informing Loki had been a mere formality.

He had wanted to protest but had been asked to just listen and sleep on it. Uncharacteristically, Loki had agreed and held his tongue—even though it had been agonizing.

A loud knock at the door pulled them out of their daze. Tony recovered first and turned to answer it, calling over his shoulder, "Okay, let's talk about this over dinner."

Loki cast one last glance over the now-darkened city before stepping inside and instructing the servants to set dinner in the library.

His father seemed to be bribing him, judging by the exquisite dishes sent to him.

In front of a crackling fireplace, Loki told his companion everything that had been discussed in the throne room that day.

After a brief hesitation, he also shared details of yesterday's conversation. When he finished, he looked up from his plate, watching his mortal expectantly. He could practically hear Tony's brilliant mind at work.

Finally, Tony gave a slight nod and focused his gaze on Loki. "So, the whole father-son bonding thing is good, right?"

Loki tilted his head. "I think so… maybe. I don't know." He was still confused by Odin's sudden openness.

Tony hummed. "Well, that's up to you to figure out, babe. I'm not exactly the best person to ask. You know I didn't have the best relationship with my dad." Loki nodded, catching the bitterness behind those casual words.

"And as for the rest…" Tony continued, "What do you think? I can see you've already made up your mind."

Loki took a deep breath, pushing his plate away. "At first, I was horrified and thought it was some cruel joke," he admitted. "But now, I think it could be a great opportunity for the realm to have a new, young king."

Tony nodded and gestured for him to go on.

"We could usher in a new era, Thor and I. Thyra wasn't wrong in what she said. The realm has been crumbling for years, and I already have a few ideas to stop the decline and turn it into something positive. Father never listened to my proposals, but Thor hasn't dismissed them. Whenever I spoke to him about them, he even seemed supportive."

His mortal grinned at him. "Oh yeah? You've already been making plans? What exactly do you have in mind for Asgard?"

Loki launched into his vision for a bright future for Asgard and the Nine Realms. The more he spoke, the more excited he became—and the wider Tony's grin grew.

"What do you think?" Loki finally asked.

Tony smirked. "I think you've already decided, babe."

Loki sighed and lowered his gaze. "Enough about me. Tell me about your day."

Tony's voice, his logic, his presence—they had helped immensely, as always. Where there had once been only chaos—usually ending in destruction—there was now a voice of reason.

Where had Tony been all these years? So much could have been different… if only he had had someone like Tony to talk to.

"I'm glad you asked. I still have something to give you," his mortal grinned and disappeared from the room for a moment. When he returned, he held a small package in his hands, which he handed to Loki with a playful, exaggerated bow. "For the general, with best wishes from Carr and the Princes' Guard."

Loki had to smile but rolled his eyes nonetheless. Curious, he pulled back the cloth and looked down at the perfectly balanced dagger. "Oh, how beautiful," he breathed. "You met Carr?"

Tony dropped onto one of the cozy sofas, put his feet up, and began recounting his tour through Asgard.

"How wonderful, so my brother didn't just show you the taverns of the city," Loki remarked, sitting down next to Tony and pulling his feet onto his lap.

His mortal laughed and almost began to purr as Loki started massaging his legs and feet.

Tony told him about Carr, the war stories, and the unplanned drinking bout that followed. Loki listened, smiling. He had always liked Carr and was touched to hear that his old guard had been worried about him.

"When you said the Aesir don't like you, babe, that's not entirely true. I think there are a lot of people out there who care about you. While walking through the city today, at least a dozen people sent their regards to you."

Loki raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "Why were you in the city again today?"

Tony grinned mischievously. "That's a secret," he simply said.

He gestured toward the package. "So, where are you going to hang the dagger? With all the stuff you have here, there's hardly any space left," he joked.

"What do you mean?" Loki asked, looking around in confusion. He owned no trinkets and didn't want any.

"Well, you're a prince, babe. I actually expected a bit more pomp and glitter."

Loki sighed and looked at his mortal intently. "I have you, my love. I need nothing more."

The grin on Tony's face faltered, and his chin dropped slightly, parting those perfect lips into a stunned "Oh."

Loki felt a wave of affection, one that was not his own, as Tony sat up and placed a hand on Loki's face. Overwhelmed by these foreign emotions, Loki leaned into the touch, rubbing his face against Tony's palm, never breaking eye contact.

When he gently bit his mortal's finger and pressed a kiss to his palm, the man finally moved.

He straddled Loki's lap and pulled him into a tender kiss, sucking lightly on his lower lip as he withdrew.

"Ek ann þér," Tony whispered, sharing his breath.

Loki loved it when his mortal spoke the words in his language and responded in Midgardian: "I love you, too."

"No! You can't ask this of me!"

Loki stared at his father and brother in shock. For a week now, they had been deliberating the best way to handle the transition of power. His father finally seemed open to his arguments—he was actually listening. Loki was still confused by this sudden change of heart but tried to make the most of it.

"My son, you are to represent the throne. Your idea of diplomatic journeys to the Nine Realms is wise. I believe you are strong enough to undertake the journey to Jotunheim," the Allfather repeated.

"And you expect me to return there as a monster?!" Loki's voice rose in fury. This had to be a joke—it had to be.

"Brother, please..." Thor tried to calm him, but Loki shoved his outstretched hand away.

"If you represent Asgard as a Frost Giant, I believe the Jotun will be more willing to speak with us."

So that was it. That was the real plan.

Odin didn't want him as Asgard's representative—he just wanted to use his true form as a political tool. Did he really think it would be that easy? The Giants hadn't forgotten who had led the attack against them and their sacred temple, no matter what he looked like. They would kill him. That much was certain.

And Odin knew it. That's why he wanted to send him alone. No escort, no reinforcements. Just Loki, in his true form.

Loki clenched his fists and glared at his father. "If you want me dead, why go through all this trouble? Just call the guards and be done with it!" he spat.

Odin exhaled wearily and reached out to him. "I know you can do this, Loki. No one else could succeed. My son, I will remove the spell."

A glow emanated from Odin's raised hand.

"NO, DON'T! WAIT!" Loki screamed in desperation, stumbling back.

He turned to Thor in alarm, but his brother only stared back, just as confused. Then Loki looked down at his hands—hands that were no longer his own.

Blue claws.

No. No, no, no.

He collapsed to his knees, his trembling fingers brushing over his face. He could feel the ridges and lines now carved into his skin.

No!

He didn't need a mirror to know his eyes had turned red.

Loki clutched his head, trying to shield himself from their stares.

"Brother..." Thor stepped toward him.

"NO!" Loki scrambled backward in panic. "Don't touch me!"

Thor couldn't. If he did, he would burn himself on the cold.

Loki turned to his father, his voice raw. "Why did you do this?"

Odin stepped closer and knelt before him. "I want you to stand, my son. Look at yourself. Be proud of your heritage."

Proud?

The word felt like a slap.

His entire life, he had been told how monstrous the Frost Giants were—blue-skinned creatures with claws and red eyes, lurking in the dark, devouring misbehaving children.

"The Jotun were once so much more than they are now. They had a rich culture, and I valued the wisdom of their leaders. I cannot say exactly when it turned to ruin, but in the end, it led to war. It always leads to war." Odin's gaze locked onto his.

"You can bring them back, Loki. You have the strength. Rebuild their temple, restore their lost knowledge," Odin continued, gripping Loki's arm, trying to pull him to his feet.

Loki flinched violently.

The touch burned against his now-cold skin.

Odin's grip was firm, dragging him in front of a tall mirror.

Desperately, Loki tried to focus on anything but his own reflection. His gaze landed on Thor—who was staring at him.

Not in disgust, as Loki had expected.

No, it wasn't disgust.

What was that look? Fascination?

"Now you see me, brother. Does it bring you joy?" he asked bitterly.

"Loki," Thor's voice was steady. "You are not a monster." He gestured to the mirror. "Look at yourself. You are a king."

Loki swallowed hard. Had he heard that right?

Slowly, hesitantly, he forced himself to look.

His gaze traveled up, past his Asgardian armor, until it met his own face.

His breath hitched.

Glowing, ruby-red eyes stared back from an azure face, marked with intricate dark lines and ridges. But on his forehead, those same markings shimmered gold, unlike the deeper blue patterns on his cheeks and neck.

For a long moment, he just stared.

Then, in a flash of green light, his magic enveloped him, shifting his form back.

With a sharp movement, he yanked himself free from Odin's grip, shaking his head as he slowly backed away from them.

No. No, no, no.

Loki turned and fled the throne room.

Thor trembled, and Odin could smell the ozone crackling around his eldest son. He placed a steady hand on Thor's shoulder. "He will calm down. He will find a way. Loki always finds a way," he murmured, more to himself than to his son.

Thor violently shrugged off his father's hand and spun to face him. "Why did you do this? You left him no choice!"

Odin let out a heavy sigh. "There was no right way to do this. All my life, I tried to shield him from the nonsense spoken about the Frost Giants. But the servants and soldiers did their work well with their tales of monsters."

Thor was still shaking with rage. Seeing his little brother so helpless, so devastated, struck him to his core. Through the red haze of his anger, he barely heard his father continue.

"I hope that one day, he can forgive me for my mistakes. But he must accept himself for who he truly is."

Thor clenched his fists. "You're forcing him to. That's not right, Father."

Odin's gaze hardened. "Loki is what he is. The sooner he accepts that, the better for him. He is not just any Frost Giant—he is a prince among them!" His voice thundered through the hall. "He is also a prince of Asgard and he is my son. I will not argue this further. Go find him. Stand by him."

With that, Thor was dismissed. He turned sharply, frustration burning in his chest.

Why did Father always say these things to him and not to the one who needed to hear them most? Those words would have given Loki comfort, a sense of belonging. But from Thor's lips, they carried only half the weight.

Taking a deep breath, he set off to find his little brother.

Loki ran through the palace corridors, fleeing from himself.

Where to?

His feet found the path on their own—the great library. As a child, he had always hidden there when he was afraid. In its endless halls and towering bookshelves, one could disappear entirely.

He kept running until he reached the library's most secluded corner. Panting, he braced himself against a heavy bookshelf and slid to the floor. His hands tangled in his hair as he let out an anguished, animalistic cry.

How could they do this to him?

He had thought—no, how had he been so blind?

All of Odin's words, his assurances that he was his son, that he was proud of him—lies. Was this what he had been prepared for? To march to his death with his head held high, wearing the face of a monster?

Loki shivered and wrapped his arms tightly around himself, curling in on his own body as much as he could. He wanted to disappear, to stop existing.

His father—no, Odin—was wrong.

He did not belong in Asgard. Not in this wretched form.

The Allfather had stripped him of his very identity.

Who was he?

Loki no longer knew. His mind reeled, unraveling. He was losing himself. He needed—

His head snapped up.

Anthony.

He needed his mortal.

He would have answers. He would help him think, help him breathe.

Staggering to his feet, Loki stumbled through the darkened corridors. How long had he been hiding?

The voices in his mind grew louder, unbearable. He broke into a run.

Bursting through the doors of his chambers, he called for Tony, searching frantically through every room.

Empty.

Deserted.

He wasn't here.

No.

Loki stumbled onto the small balcony, gulping the cold night air as if it could steady him.

His legs gave out, and he slid down against the wall, resting his forehead against his knees.

Silent tears began to fall.

Chapter 17 – Realizations

Tony was immensely pleased with his work. He could hardly wait to see Loki's face when he showed it to him.

It had taken a week, but today was finally the day. Tightening his grip on the leather pouch, he quickened his pace. Night had already fallen, and the streets of Asgard lay quiet before him. Scattered fire braziers illuminated the small squares and alleys, their flickering glow casting long shadows. Laughter and music drifted from a nearby tavern, but Tony ignored the distractions—he had only one goal in mind.

As he ascended the palace steps bathed in moonlight, a sense of unease crept over him. The farther he walked through the empty halls, the heavier the feeling became. Something was wrong. He stopped, listening—both outwardly and inwardly—and suddenly gasped for air. This was bad. Very bad.

Without hesitation, Tony broke into a run. His footsteps echoed loudly against the cold stone walls.

What had happened? A wave of pain and despair had crashed over him, growing stronger with every step toward Loki's chambers. He shoved the door open and scanned the dimly lit room.

"Loki!" he called. "Are you here?"

A faint rustling from the bedroom sent a fresh jolt of alarm through him. His heart pounded as he swallowed hard and pushed through the half-open door, his eyes straining against the darkness.

"Where were you?" A hoarse whisper came from the shadows.

Tony barely had time to react before he was slammed against the wall.

"What the—Loki, what's going on?" He fell silent as his gaze locked onto Loki's eyes, nearly black in the dim light.

"I asked you," Loki hissed, "where were you?"

A chill crawled down Tony's spine. Slowly, an unfamiliar sensation coiled in his gut—fear.

"You reek of wood smoke, sweat, and leather," Loki continued, his voice a low snarl that sent shivers down Tony's spine. "Who is it you've been visiting all these nights?"

The sheer force of his fury invaded Tony's thoughts, suffocating and searing hot. Tony gasped—this rage wasn't his own.

"It's… it's not what you think, babe." He forced the endearment past the tightness in his throat, hoping to pierce through whatever madness had consumed his god. "Babe? Loki, what happened?" He reached out, intending to cup Loki's face.

The movement was caught in a painful grip, and Loki slammed his fist against the wall just inches from Tony's head.

Tony froze. Not good. Not good at all.

"Who is it?" Loki demanded again, his hold on Tony's wrist tightening. "Say it, Stark. Tell me who you're betraying me with!"

Stark? Betrayal?

Oh, hell no!

Tony's fear ignited into anger. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but he wasn't about to stand there and be accused of cheating. Summoning all his strength, he tore himself free from Loki's grasp and shoved him back.

"For fuck's sake!" he roared.

Loki stumbled, and for the first time, his eyes flickered with something other than fury. But Tony was too livid to notice.

"You've got some nerve! I have no idea what's gotten into you, but I am not going to stand here and let you accuse me of that bullshit. You hear me?"

Loki just stared at him.

"You think—after everything we've been through—that I'd just crawl into someone else's bed?" Tony's voice cracked with fury. "You bastard!" He saw Loki flinch at the word, and though it twisted something in his chest, he refused to stop.

"You have no idea what I've been through for you! I spent months searching for you! I had a goddamn breakdown! I changed my body for you!" His voice rose with each accusation, his rage reaching a fever pitch. "I've killed for you! And I would do it again! And now you're accusing me of this? I don't deserve this, Loki!"

Breathing heavily, Tony turned toward the door.

"Anthony…"

The whisper behind him was raw, pleading.

He ignored it. He ignored the wave of pain and regret rolling off Loki.

Grabbing the leather pouch he had set by the entrance, Tony turned and hurled it at him. It struck Loki square in the chest before falling to the floor at his feet.

"There's your fucking answer," Tony spat, his voice shaking.

Loki reached out, his expression stricken. "Anthony…"

But Tony had nothing left to give.

"NO!" he snapped. "Don't you dare follow me!"

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

It was too much. Too many emotions that weren't his. Too much pain, too much… everything.

Turning a corner at full speed, he collided with a solid mass. Strong arms caught him before he could fall.

Thor's eyes were filled with concern. "What has happened, friend Stark?"

Tony glared up at him. Gods, he was sick of Asgardians. "Ask your damn brother," he snapped, voice rough. "He's lost his fucking mind."

Thor frowned. "What—where?"

Tony yanked himself free.

"In his damn chambers," he bit out, not slowing down.

Thor looked torn between following him and rushing to Loki.

Tony didn't give him the chance to choose. "Figure it out yourself," he threw over his shoulder before vanishing around the next corner.

His footsteps echoed through the cold, empty halls as fury and heartbreak drove him forward—away from Thor, away from Loki, away from everything.

Loki dropped to his knees, lifting the leather pouch to his chest and pressing it tightly against him.

What had he done?

Footsteps hurriedly approached his door, and with hope, he lifted his head. Anthony. But the voice calling his name was not that of his mortal.

"Brother? Brother!"

Loki dug his fingers into the pouch and closed his eyes in despair.

He was a monster. They could say whatever they wanted, but he had just proven it — he was exactly that: a monster.

Thor knelt before him and pulled him into a tight embrace as silent tears ran down Loki's face.

"What have I done?" he whispered.

His brother gently stroked his back and head. "What happened, brother? I just saw Stark. He looked angry and confused."

Loki felt numb and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet by Thor, who guided him to a chair.

This was all one big nightmare. He had searched for Anthony, waited for him desperately, but his mortal had come too late. The malicious voice in his head had grown overpowering, dragging him into darkness. And now he had driven away the one person who brought him peace, the one who understood him and loved him.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said tersely. "Not about Father, not about Anthony."

Thor eyed him skeptically, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Finally, he nodded. He knew Loki well enough to understand that pressing him wouldn't help. His blue eyes, however, remained full of concern for his younger brother. How much longer will you torment yourself, brother? he wanted to ask, but instead, he gestured to the bundle in Loki's hands.

"What's in the pouch?"

With trembling fingers — which Thor kindly didn't comment on — Loki opened the pouch. Something golden gleamed inside. He carefully pulled out two exquisitely crafted arm braces.

Thor let out an appreciative sound. "Oh, these are magnificent. Where did you get them?"

Loki's fingertips traced the smooth, polished surface of the braces. Fine, interlocking lines formed an intricate, repeating triangular pattern. The ends were adorned with a thin red line, matching the solitary ruby set into the front. The stone was flat enough not to obstruct movement, yet large enough to glow with a fiery gleam in the dim candlelight. Fascinated, Loki turned the brace in his hands, admiring the craftsmanship. The inside was lined with soft leather, and the elegant buckles bore the unmistakable symbol of Iron Man.

"Anthony," Loki sighed sadly.

His brother reached for the other brace, weighing it in his hand and admiring the intricate design as well. "He will return. Give him time," Thor said firmly, his gaze still fixed on the arm brace. "After all, he wants you to wear his mark," he added gently.

Loki's head snapped to him.

"The colors, the pattern..."

Thor raised an eyebrow, and Loki nodded. "Iron Man," he confirmed.

But Loki was far from certain that Iron Man would return to him. He had felt the fury Tony had experienced. He had seen the fear in his eyes — those beautiful brown eyes that had once given him strength. Eyes that he had sworn to protect at all costs. Eyes that had been the reason he fell willingly into the darkness.

Yes, they had fought before and reconciled, but this time it had been different.

He had shown Tony his darkest side. And he doubted his mortal could handle it.

He, himself, could hardly handle it.

It was as though something else took control of him, as though he became someone else. And every time his other self took charge, something terrible happened.

The last time, he had thrown Iron Man through a window from the 50th floor.

It had been almost two years since the darkness — amplified by mind control — had last emerged from within him. Loki had believed he had locked it away for good. But Odin's betrayal had torn the chains apart. And without the help of the one who had once banished it, the darkness had finally come crashing down.

Carefully, he placed the arm brace back on the table and stared into the dying flame of the fire.

What have I done?

The thought that Anthony could actually betray him had never truly crossed his mind — only that dark voice inside his head. And yet, he had allowed it to speak.

His hands clenched into fists.

If he had been stronger, he would have resisted.

He sighed deeply. "I don't think I'll be of much use to you, brother," he said bitterly.

Thor simply shook his head and looked at him seriously. "Nonsense, brother."

He carefully pushed the arm brace back across the table. "You're the only one who can do this. The oracle has said it — time and time again. The Frost Giants will trust only one of their own."

Loki raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Thor continued, "Loki, you are the one. Have faith in your abilities."

Loki let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, brother. I do have faith in my abilities. I just think I know how a battle between a sorcerer and 10,000 Frost Giants will end. And so do you," he retorted.

But Thor still shook his head. "I don't think it will come to a battle, brother. Father told me... you're not just any Frost Giant. You're a prince among them and..." He paused.

Loki eyed him suspiciously. "And?"

Thor's voice was deadly serious when he continued, "...and a prince of Asgard. His son."

Loki snorted. "Sure. Whatever."

Why couldn't his father say such things to him himself? Why send Thor instead?

He didn't believe a word of it.

But whatever the case, he would be forced to travel in a hated form to a hated planet, where he would find his death.

Did it even matter to him anymore if...

He straightened his shoulders and stood up.

"Help me, brother."

Tony walked through the dark palace, not paying attention to where his feet were taking him.

When he finally stopped, breathless, and looked around, he realized he had walked straight into the infirmary wing. He stood in the cloister, stepping out into the small garden bathed in silver moonlight. He sat at the foot of the apple tree, its cursed golden apples gleaming, and leaned his head against the trunk.

"Damn," he muttered, pounding his fist into the ground.

How had things gone so terribly wrong? He had hoped never to see that crazy Loki from New York again—the one who threw people out of windows. He had thought it was all due to mind control back then, but it seemed he had been wrong. Loki had once told him he had a dark side, but Tony hadn't believed him. What on earth had happened to bring that side out?

He tried to breathe calmly, but panic slowly crept in. Tony hadn't thought about the fall from the 50th floor and the aftermath in a long time. Now, his PTSD was threatening to resurface, and he was alone—without the one who had helped him overcome it: Loki.

"You'll send him into darkness if you turn your back on him now," a quiet voice came from his right, out of the shadows.

Tony's heart skipped a beat, and he fought against the panic attack that was clawing at him. Shit! He pressed his back against the reassuringly solid trunk of the tree, his fingers gripping the damp grass as his breath came in shallow gasps. Breathe, Tony, breathe! He closed his eyes and silently counted to three with each inhale and exhale. Footsteps approached, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw who stood before him.

"How did I know you'd be involved?" Tony asked dryly.

Odin looked both guilty and weary. "May I sit with you?" he asked, and Tony, surprised, slid over to make room for the All-Father. It was strange, sitting together like this—in a quiet garden, side by side under the vast Asgardian night sky, Odin All-Father and the human Tony Stark.

"It's my fault," Odin finally broke the silence, and Tony raised an eyebrow in question. "I took the spell off my son and returned his true form to him."

Tony's jaw dropped. WHAT? What had he done?! He forced himself to ask in a casual tone, "With all due respect, All-Father, are you out of your mind?"

The god chuckled. "Yes, it seems so. Doesn't it? But it had to be done. Loki cannot keep hiding from his heritage." It sounded as if Loki hadn't had much of a choice.

"Guess it didn't go too well, did it?"

Odin sighed heavily. "No, indeed. It was a disaster. Loki…" He searched for the right words.

"…completely lost it," Tony suggested, and Odin nodded.

"What did you hope to achieve with this? Turning him into a Frost Giant, I mean?"

Odin shot him a sharp look, but Tony met his gaze defiantly. If he was going to face a completely insane god, he at least wanted to hear a reason for it.

"It's his heritage as the son of Laufey, the King of the Jotun. My spell kept him from ever taking his true form. Now, it's in his power to choose who he wants to be. It is his destiny to reunite the realms, just as he once divided them. I know I may have confronted him with this too soon."

Tony nodded. That made sense, but he'd bet his latest Iron Man suit that Odin hadn't put it to Loki like that. Otherwise, his god wouldn't be so completely off track. "You really need to work on your communication," Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Odin continued unwaveringly, "Loki must pass this trial. He must go to Jotunheim and face his people."

"Aha, and how many men are you sending him with for this simple task?" Tony already knew the answer.

"My son must face this alone."

Bingo.

Tony cleared his throat and fully turned to face Odin. "This is a suicide mission, and you know it," he said, raising a warning hand as the god began to speak. Odin looked at him in surprise, probably not used to anyone silencing him, but Tony didn't care.

"You know it, and Loki knows it too, or he wouldn't have overreacted so badly. No, I suspect you first turned him into a Frost Giant, and then gave him this lovely task—basically a death sentence. AND," he grew louder as Odin tried to protest, "and then you just left him to face it alone. You turn him into this thing, strip him of everything he is, condemn him with this impossible task leading to almost certain death." His hand remained raised.

"Oh, no, no, no, I'm sure your oracle gave you some lovely 1 in 1000 chance of success. Ever heard of empathy? Do you have any idea what that did to him? Do you have the slightest clue that he's been desperately trying to gain your approval?"

He laughed bitterly as something clicked in his mind. "Yeah, you're aware of it, aren't you? That's exactly why you're asking this of him. You know he'll do it, in the hopeless attempt to get that approval from you."

At least Odin had the decency to lower his gaze, looking somewhat ashamed. Tony nodded grimly. "That way, you don't have to put Thor at risk. Convenient, when you have a spare you can throw to the wolves."

Odin's head snapped up. "You're presuming far too much, Man of Iron. It is not as you're portraying it."

Oh, please, Tony knew exactly what was going on here. Howard Stark had been just like Odin—manipulative and emotionally cold toward his son, who only wanted one thing: approval and a kind word, some love for who he was, and pride for what he'd accomplished.

"However it may look, I won't let him go alone," Tony said, standing up and turning to leave. "You can turn yourself upside down, I won't leave him. Loki is mine, and I am his."

Behind him, Odin smiled and rose to his feet as well. "Man of Iron!" he called after him.

Reluctantly, Tony turned back just in time to catch the two golden apples flying toward him with both hands.

Confused, Tony stared at Odin. "For your loyalty and dedication." Then the god disappeared into the darkness.

Tony stared at the fruits for a moment, confused, and then laughed as it hit him. That bastard. Had he said all of that just to keep Tony by Loki's side? To make him realize that he loved Loki, no matter how intense their argument had been?

Damn gods. He wouldn't leave Loki. Never. Nothing he did or said would make him break his word. It would take more than that to drive him away, Tony thought bitterly. Now, he was blaming himself for not staying. He had just run away from the situation. He had felt that something had gone terribly wrong. He shouldn't have let himself be provoked. He should've been there for Loki. Instead, he had tried to hurt him with his words even more. Damn it.

It didn't matter if Loki was an Aesir or a Frost Giant. He would show him that he was right—that he wasn't a monster. Tony would find a way to make his god understand that. He just didn't know exactly how yet. Resolutely, he turned to make his way back to his god.

To his surprise, a soft conversation filtered through the door. Fandral, he thought for a fleeting moment. Tony immediately pushed that absurd thought away. With a swift motion, he opened the door and found Thor bent over Loki's forearms in the middle of the reception room.

Loki's head shot up at the sound of the door, and Tony saw a flicker of hope in those intense green eyes. His mouth silently formed Tony's name, and Tony couldn't help but smirk, albeit reluctantly. Loki's whole body turned toward him, drawn to him like a magnet.

"Anthony, I…" Loki started, but was silenced by a raised hand. His god froze mid-motion.

That works pretty well with Asgardians, Tony thought. He turned to Thor, irritated. "Hey, big guy, can I ask why you're pulling this crap behind my back?"

The Thunder God blinked in confusion at Tony's angry words. "F… Friend Stark?" Tony wasn't in the mood for that, so he cut to the chase.

"Don't even! You probably knew exactly what your father was planning and let him walk right into it," – he gestured at Loki – "without telling me. I get into bed with him and have to deal with the aftermath, you know?!"

He stepped closer to the Thunder God, who looked like he'd just been struck by one of his own bolts. Unconsciously, Tony positioned himself protectively in front of Loki.

"It's bad enough you do that to him, but then you leave him all alone? You know he has a bit of a tendency to go berserk, right?"

Thor finally found his voice again. "Uh, yes, it may have been a bit clumsy of my father... I searched for Loki, but…"

Tony glared at him, furious. So Thor had known exactly what Odin was planning. He had known his brother far longer than Tony did – how had he thought this would play out?

Tony raised his hand again, and Thor's mumbling stopped. "Enough. I don't want to argue right now. Let's just agree this was a stupid idea to go through with it without a backup plan."

Without paying any more attention to Thor's confused face (backup plan?), Tony spun around to face Loki. In the turn, he transformed his raised hand into an outstretched one and held it out to his god.

"Come," he said simply, his voice softer now, a small smile playing on his lips.

Fear and hope reflected in his god's eyes. Finally, a shift passed through Loki, and he placed his hand in Tony's. They needed to sort this out now. Tony led his god, leaving Thor standing there, and opened the door to the bathroom.

He had noticed that Loki always seemed relaxed near the hot springs. Determined, Tony closed the door behind them and led Loki toward the first trees on the edge of the spring.

With a sudden movement, he pushed Loki's back against one of the thick tree trunks. Tony's hands followed moments later, one beside Loki's head and the other at his waist, ensuring he wouldn't escape. Since the ground here sloped slightly, they were almost at eye level. Tony's brown eyes met Loki's green ones, and he asked:

"Who am I?"

"Who am I?"

Loki snapped out of his trance and stared at his mortal, confused. What did he mean by that?

His thoughts were spinning wildly ever since Anthony had stormed through the door. He was still here, hadn't left Asgard, he had come back to him and even yelled at his brother.

"Come on, babe, your magic knows, so you know too. I want you to say it. Who am I to you?"

His tone became more insistent, but Loki could only think about the fact that he had just been called "babe."

Tony was using his pet name for him again. Loki's knees went weak, and something deep inside him clicked into place with a soft snap. Warmth flooded through his veins.

The answer came automatically; Loki didn't need to think. "You are a part of me, Anthony, my love."

Tony smiled, nodded, and kissed him, pressing him against the rough bark of the tree. His hands were on him now, pulling him closer. The kiss was almost painful, but Loki welcomed every bit of it. He clung to his mortal as if his life depended on it. When Tony finally pulled away, Loki gasped for air. Tony pressed his forehead against Loki's, and they breathed each other in.

"I'm sorry," Loki whispered. "I wish you'd never seen this side of me."

Tony shook his head, his forehead still pressed to Loki's. "I want to know everything about you, see everything. I want it all, do you hear me? And Loki, I won't judge you. I'm by your side," he whispered again. "Always."

The word was a warm breath against Loki's cheek, almost making him cry.

He knew what his mortal expected of him, not least because he knew how incredibly curious Anthony was. He wanted to see him in his true form, but Loki couldn't. He despised the blue skin and the red eyes. It was bad enough that his brother had seen him like this—how could he possibly show himself to his lover?

Tony pulled away from him, gazing deeply into his eyes.

Trust me.

Alright. Loki averted his gaze from Tony's, took a deep breath, and raised his left hand. As he lowered it, his vest and shirt vanished. If Anthony wanted to see him, he would see more than just a blue face with red eyes.

He felt the cold of Jotunheim flowing through his veins, could feel lines and marks forming on his skin. Anthony's hands on his hips felt unnaturally warm, almost hot. He felt his mortal take a step back, but he didn't let go.

Loki looked up, startled, and exhaled the breath he had been holding. In the warm air of the bathroom, small clouds of steam formed with his cold breath. What he saw in Tony's eyes surprised him even more than the fact that his mortal was still holding him.

He had expected rejection, even disgust, but instead, Tony looked at him with fascination—no, he was admiring him, recognizing Loki.

His mortal raised his hand, wanting to touch his bare skin, but Loki recoiled in horror.

"No!" he hissed. "You'll burn yourself. My skin radiates cold in this form." He lowered his gaze again and nearly jumped out of his skin when a warm hand touched his cheek.

His mortal grinned at him mischievously. "You know me, babe, I like taking risks."

He ran his fingertips over Loki's face. "It's cold, but bearable. I don't think your magic would let me burn myself on you." He chuckled softly, and Loki clearly understood the double meaning in his words. He shot him a defiant look, and the grin only grew wider.

Curious fingertips traced every line on his face, traveling down his neck and over his chest. The lines and marks covered his whole body; Loki knew that. If his mortal wanted to trace them all, he'd be busy for a long time. Why was this body so fascinating to him? Loki watched in wonder as Tony slowly explored his blue form.

"What do these lines mean?" The question brought Loki out of his thoughts.

He cleared his throat. "They're life lines. Some have always been there, others appear after significant events." His mortal furrowed his brow slightly, so he explained further. "For example, after a battle or a loss. Every Jotun has their own story; no two lines are the same."

Tony looked up. "So you're unique, not just as an Aesir, but as a Jotun?"

Reluctantly, Loki nodded. "You think I'm unique?" No one had ever said that to him. His mortal moved closer and placed both hands on his chest. It felt hot.

"What are you..." But before he could finish, warm lips pressed to his, and he felt the intoxicating heat of fire in his mouth.

It didn't take long, and when Tony exhaled Loki's cold breath, he did so with some satisfaction. "Totally wild," he grinned. "It's like kissing an ice cube."

Loki now felt uncomfortable. He started to squirm in Tony's grip, but the grip was unrelenting.

"Where are you going, Frosty? I'm not done with you yet."

It was starting to feel good, and Loki didn't want to associate that feeling with this form. It was repulsive and frightening, not alluring or...

"You're beautiful," hot breath whispered against his neck, and a burning kiss landed behind his ear.

He could feel Tony's heat through his clothes. Should he show him more of this body? No! What was he thinking? He wanted to change back, but...

"I really like this line here."

Loki gasped in shock as a tongue licked across his neck and hot hands settled on his hips.

"What... what are you doing?" he gasped, but his mortal silently pushed him against the tree trunk, continuing to cover his unfamiliar body with kisses. The sensations sent shivers through Loki, and he began to squirm even more intensely.

Tony grabbed his wrists and pinned them above Loki's head against the trunk, preventing him from escaping. Since when had his mortal gotten so strong? Another kiss took his breath away – and his sanity right along with it.

"Does Asgard not know the concept of make-up sex?" Tony whispered against his lips, and Loki's eyes widened in shock.

"Not in this form—" He was silenced by another kiss.

"No?" Tony gasped as he released him. "Then I'll take you in the hot water later," he promised. "For now... let's see, how about this?"

He pressed himself against Loki, and the heat threatened to overwhelm him.

Loki gasped. "This... is too... hot... Anthony, please."

His mortal growled softly and pulled back, only to press his body back against Loki's almost immediately. Like a wave, Tony let his body slide over Loki's, rubbing against him. Loki couldn't resist and moaned loudly, throwing his head back to look at Tony with a lustful gaze.

Tony stared at him hungrily and leaned in. "You have no idea how sexy you are, do you?" he whispered in Loki's ear, and Loki forgot who he was, where he was, or what he was.

There was only the man before him, who desired him. And who was now sliding his hot hand into Loki's pants.

It didn't take much, and Loki melted in Tony's hands, throwing himself at him, demanding more kisses, which were graciously granted. Eventually, Loki leaned back, breathless, against the rough pine trunk, his hands still pinned above his head. Tony's hand stroked over his face again.

"So you can blush in this form too," his mortal whispered, running a thumb over his cheek. "Charming," he grinned, making Loki's face flush even more.

Finally, Tony released his hands, but immediately pulled him into a tight embrace. The heat was too much for Loki now, and he shifted back into his normal form.

"Hmmm," his lover purred. "Not bad either."

And then he kissed him so thoroughly that Loki felt as if he might stop existing altogether.

They gasped for air as they finally pulled away from each other.

A quick glance at the water was enough for Tony to sink to his knees in front of him. He freed him from his boots and took off his pants with a sharp tug that made Loki sway. He kissed his way back up, brushing Loki's prick teasingly with his cheek.

Loki yanked his mortal up and began stripping him of his new Asgardian robes. The vest's buckles and cords were quickly undone, and the undershirt followed seconds later.

As he knelt down in front of him to remove his boots and pants, he suddenly felt a hand on his head. He looked up into a grinning face.

"Nice view from up here," his mortal purred, and Loki yanked Tony's pants down. Oh well wait, he thought, closing his mouth around his mortal.

Satisfied, he heard the gasp of surprise and felt fingernails scratching his scalp.

But he didn't let Tony cum like that. Moments later he pulled away under loud protests and instead pulled Tony into the warm water with him.

"Nasty," his mortal groaned, and Loki saw that he was in agony.

All right, he grinned, picked Tony up and carried him to the stone steps. He laid him on his back on the top row and slid down between his thighs.

"Oh God," Tony gasped, squirming violently in his grip. Loki gripped his hips tightly, preventing his lover from thrusting into his mouth.

With a loud scream and Loki's name on his lips, his mortal climaxed a little later, trembling violently. Only then did Loki release his hips, giving Tony the opportunity to ride out his orgasm with wild thrusts.

An hour and a promise from Tony later, Loki no longer understood the world. Just this morning, he had been on the verge of madness, had fallen into darkness – and now his heart was ready to burst with happiness.

He felt good, even in his other form, he reluctantly admitted. Anthony had made him feel desirable both times. He had looked at him with the same passion in his Jotun form as he always did. So, he wasn't a monster after all… but what was he then?

Loki sat with his back against Tony's chest on the stone steps when a kiss on his neck pulled him out of his thoughts. "Are you going to leave?" Tony asked into his neck, continuing to kiss him.

"Mm," Loki purred, dropping his head forward to give him more room for kisses.

"How much do you know?" he asked in return. And how do you know it? His mortal had an uncanny ability to figure out things he wasn't supposed to know. And he didn't even have J.A.R.V.I.S. here in Asgard—so what was his source?

Between two teasing kisses and a gentle bite, the words Loki never expected to hear came.

"Oh, I had a nice little chat with your dad." Loki slowly turned to look at him, staring at him in disbelief. His mortal grinned cheekily and shrugged.

"Hey, he came to me and told me how he messed up this time." The cheerfulness faded from his face as he added, "Too late. Much too late. I... I'm sorry, Loki, I wasn't there when you needed me."

Loki stared at him in horror. Tony was the last person who should be apologizing for any of this. "No, my love." He placed a hand on Tony's cheek. "None of this is your fault. My father was... well, whatever, but I was the one who wasn't strong enough. I'm sorry for dragging you into this. Please forgive me."

Tony kissed the palm of Loki's hand, sending a shiver down his spine. He shook his head. "You lost control. Anyone would have under the circumstances. I should have been there." He continued to kiss Loki's hand. "And there's nothing to forgive," he added seriously.

Then, a smile crept onto his face, and he twisted Loki's hand in his. "Do you like them?" he asked, glancing at the golden bracers Loki had put on with Thor's help hours ago.

Loki felt himself blush again. "They're beautiful, and I'll never take them off—unless you do it for me." With that, he managed to make Tony blush too, and he laughed. The laughter was silenced by a kiss.

"Very nice. I don't like it when other people touch my stuff," his mortal growled. "If everyone can see that I belong to you, then they should also see who you belong to," he said firmly.

Loki purred. "I belong to you, Iron Man." He swallowed, noticing the intense gaze of Tony. "Do you still hold it against me? The thing with the bond?"

"Well... since we're clearing things up... why didn't you tell me the truth about it?" Tony asked.

Loki swallowed and avoided his brown eyes. "I... I..." His heart clenched painfully, and he bit his lip. He could clearly feel the weight of his mortal's gaze. Nervously, he began to trace his fingers over the bracers. "I was afraid of how you would react." For a brief moment, he dared to glance at Tony.

"And you thought, since we can't undo it, you'd just leave me in the dark?" Loki could feel his mortal's anger clearly now. It wasn't just in the words—it hit him with the full force of emotion, and Loki flinched. The happiness he had felt earlier disappeared. He needed to explain why he hadn't said anything.

"Anthony... I... I feared I wouldn't be enough for you." His fingers stopped tracing the lines on the bracers, and he looked up at Tony's face.

Tony furrowed his brow. "How do you come up with these thoughts?"

"Is it really so far-fetched? The whole time in New York, I only ever saw you with women." Loki lowered his eyes and whispered, "I'm just a man. I don't know if that's enough for you..." The anger he had sensed from Tony vanished, replaced by something else—affection and love. Loki's head snapped up.

"You didn't see everything back then, babe." Tony's cheeks flushed red. "Do you think I'd have gotten involved with you without thinking it through first?" He cleared his throat. "And since we're playing this game—how do I know I'm enough for you? I'm just a human." He said the last part a bit too harshly. Another wave of emotion hit Loki, this time anger again. He gasped and pulled back.

Tony immediately raised his hands apologetically. "No! Sorry, babe. That wasn't about you." The feelings they shared through the bond were intense. Loki still wasn't used to perceiving Tony's emotions this way. His lover probably felt the same.

Loki placed his hand on Tony's cheek and asked softly, "What's making you so angry, my love?"

Tony looked away awkwardly, clenching his fists. "It's stupid..."

"Tell me," Loki urged gently.

Tony shook his head but finally muttered, "Fandral."

Damn! That troublemaker. He should never have gotten involved with Thor's friend. But he had been so lonely after the death of his previous companion...

"What did he say to you?"

Tony avoided his gaze and stayed silent. "He boasted about shagging me. Am I right?"

His mortal nodded curtly and looked deep into his eyes, searching for confirmation. "He said some pretty ugly things. I don't want to repeat them."

Loki met his gaze and moved closer. "No matter what he claims—it was only once. And I assure you, he didn't take me." Tony's eyebrows shot up.

Loki needed to make it clear. "You're the only one in all of Asgard and the Nine Realms who has ever had me. I belong to you Anthony."

It was the truth. Not even his last companion had had that privilege. He belonged to Anthony with everything he was and hoped his lover felt the same. Loki didn't want to dominate or be submissive in this relationship. He wanted an equal partnership—until their bond would eventually fade.

Tony closed the distance between them and pulled him into a passionate kiss. "We'd better listen to our bond instead of driving ourselves crazy, huh?" he said with a heavy breath, kissing Loki again.

"Mm..." The happiness returned to Loki's chest, and this time, it would stay.

He grinned. "So you don't hold it against me anymore?"

His mortal looked at him intensely, then finally shook his head. "I don't think so, no. But it would have been nice if you'd asked me officially." Loki tilted his head in confusion. "Well, if I'm the girl in this relationship, I would've liked a proper proposal."

Loki burst out laughing, and the tension melted away. Tony, encouraged, continued, "I'm picky, you know? I want to be swept off my feet! With red roses and a carriage and all that."

Now they were both laughing, but Loki knew there was a kernel of truth in this silliness.

"We didn't even have a proper date," Tony continued indignantly, and Loki played along.

"Oh, no? I thought all the evenings in your workshop and lab were pretty good dates."

Tony let out a mock snort. "You call that a date? You didn't even tell me you liked me."

Loki smiled at him. "Are you telling me you didn't understand the signs I gave you all this time? Natasha and Clint were right, I should've written it on a billboard."

Tony's smile softened, and he stroked Loki's cheek and neck down to his chest, resting his hand on Loki's heart. "I'm sorry, I was an idiot."

Loki placed his hand over Tony's and kissed him. Then he looked at him seriously as a memory came to him. "My Love, you said things in anger..."

Tony looked down at their entwined hands, embarrassed. "Yeah, I'm sorry, that was mean."

But Loki didn't pursue it. "… You said you changed your body for me and killed for me?" Were those just empty words, spoken out of anger, or was there more to it? Loki had to know.

Tony took a deep breath. "Okay, this is going a lot differently than planned," he began. "I actually wanted to give you your gift tonight and talk about my procedure next week over a nice glass of wine, but..."

Procedure?! What?! Loki's alarm bells went off as he looked at him in shock.

"Well, you were in the Shadow Realm, babe, I couldn't just let you die there," his mortal continued.

What did the Shadow Realm have to do with this... the Shadow Realm! Loki's eyes widened.

"What did you do, my love?" he whispered, horrified, looking at Tony's chest. The arc reactor glowed under water in its usual blue light.

In the quiet nights of Midgard, when his lover slept beside him, Loki had gently placed his hand on Tony's chest. With magic and his fingertips, he'd searched for the fragments, feeling the cold metal that pulsed threateningly close to Tony's heart. Every time, his chest would tighten. Too dangerous. Too risky. And Tony didn't even know that every night Loki feared for his life.

With the memory of those nights, he shakily placed his hand on Tony's chest and searched for the metal fragments. His mortal placed his hand on Loki's and smiled reassuringly.

"Shadow Realms are toxic for humans, your mom explained that to me."

There was no metal left! Where he had once felt the cold, threatening shards, there was now nothing but warm, living flesh and skin. Tony's heart was beating steadily—yet differently. Deeper. Stronger. As though it had absorbed time itself. A disbelieving shiver ran down Loki's back.

"What did they do to you?" Loki whispered.

"They did nothing to me, they gave me a choice, Babe," Tony said, lifting Loki's head so he had to look him in the eyes. "Your dad gave me a golden apple. He left me the choice—whether I wanted to go with Thor into the Shadow Realm or stay safe here in Asgard and wait for your return."

Loki swallowed and closed his eyes.

"I didn't hesitate for a second, Babe."

Loki opened his eyes as he heard the certainty in Tony's words. It was the same certainty Loki had felt when he had thrown himself into the portal with Thyra.

His hand still resting on Tony's chest, Loki searched the man's body. He looked for signs of decay, the ones he had always so painfully noticed before. That ticking sound that told him Tony was mortal, that there wasn't much time left. He listened—but he heard nothing. He felt only vitality, life, and a new strength that had never been there before.

His mortal was no longer mortal!

The golden apple had extended his life to the span of a god, healing him from all suffering.

A heavy weight settled on Loki's chest. What kind of sacrifice had Anthony made for him? What would it mean to live for centuries while the Avengers—his friends—disappeared one by one?

He looked into Tony's eyes. There was no trace of regret. Only determination.

Loki swallowed hard. "Anthony..."

"I did it willingly, for you, Babe," his mortal—no, his immortal—said. No, that didn't feel right.

To Loki, he would always remain his mortal. "You really chose me?"

Tony smiled softly. "Always, Babe."

Loki closed his eyes for a moment. A deep shiver ran through him. This was bigger than anything he had ever thought possible.

"I know what it means, but now it's too late to undo it. You've got me for the rest of your life, sorry," he grinned, and Loki couldn't help but laugh.

He couldn't imagine anything more beautiful.

"Oh, and about the killing part—I took care of the Commander and Thyra. They can't hurt you anymore," Tony added simply, kissing a speechless Loki once again.

The kiss was intense and demanding, as if Tony wanted confirmation, a tribute for everything he had done for Loki—and the god gave it to him.

Breathing heavily, Tony looked at him. "Do I get an answer to my question now? Will you go?"

Loki leaned back against Tony's chest again.

"Hmm, I don't know," he said finally, and Tony snorted.

"Oh, bullshit, Babe. You've already decided to go, haven't you? And, knowing you, you've already come up with a plan."

His mortal knew him too well, Loki thought with amusement.

Chapter 18 / You Are No Monster & Home

He gently brushed his mortal's forehead in reassurance. "Everything will be fine, my love," Loki whispered into Tony's ear.

"I know, you're here," came the drowsy reply.

Hjálmarr was preparing for the procedure while Ing stood in the background, ready to assist if needed. Tony had just swallowed the sleeping draught and settled onto the examination table in one of the infirmary chambers.

Today, they would remove the Arc Reactor and finally close the hole in his chest. Loki helped his companion lie down, watching him closely. From the moment he had learned about the apple and the subsequent procedure, it had been clear—he would perform the surgery himself. He would entrust Tony's life to no one, not even Hjálmarr. His friend could assist him, but Loki would ensure with his own hands that everything went well. After all, Tony had done all of this for him.

Tony's gaze grew unfocused, and he slowly drifted into unconsciousness. Just before his eyes closed completely, he clutched Loki's shirt, pulling him closer.

"Ek ann þér, Babe," he whispered, and Loki smiled.

He knew all too well how much this had cost Tony. Giving up the Arc Reactor after carrying it in his chest for years was no small thing.

It was a double-edged sword—on one hand, the Reactor had been the power source of the Iron Man suit, a part of Tony's identity, as dear to him as his own heart. On the other hand, it had been a fragile existence, dependent on a machine to keep the shrapnels from piercing his real heart.

But the shrapnels were no longer an issue, and it wasn't as if they had a choice. Tony's body hadn't just dissolved the shards—it had already begun to attack the Reactor itself. If left inside, his body would either break it down or attempt to integrate it into his tissue. The consequences were unpredictable.

Still, Loki knew how hard it would be for Tony to wake up without that familiar blue glow—just bare skin where his artificial heart had once been.

Loki had already encouraged him to design a new suit with an external power source. He had even set up a workshop for him as best he could. Asgardian technology was far more advanced than Midgard's, but it wasn't the same. And though Tony had never complained, Loki could sense his discontent.

He would have to take him back to Midgard when all of this was over.

Loki sighed softly. He had demanded so much of Tony, and yet, his mortal had never left his side. He gazed at him fondly and ran his fingers over the familiar curve of the Reactor one last time.

"Shall we begin?" Hjálmarr's quiet voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Loki nodded, checking once more to ensure that Tony was fully unconscious before they started.

Carefully, he removed the metallic heart from his beloved's chest, then set to work separating the casing from flesh and muscle. It was a long and exhausting procedure, and Loki was grateful for Hjálmarr's help. Without his old friend, it would have taken even longer to restore Tony's chest to its natural state.

Satisfied with the result, Loki personally applied a bandage infused with soothing herbal essences. Magically healed skin could easily become irritated or develop a rash, and the herbs would prevent that. The last thing they needed was a mortal scratching at freshly healed flesh.

Hjálmarr stepped beside him, placing a hand on Loki's shoulder. "I see you haven't lost your skill, General."

Loki chuckled softly. "Well, the past year with the Avengers was good practice. Humans are so easily wounded, so fragile." He gently stroked Tony's cheek.

"Hm, true enough. But this one is tougher than he looks," his friend teased. Loki smiled, nodding.

"Take him back to your chambers. Last time, his whining nearly drove me mad," Hjálmarr added with a smirk.

Loki raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"He refused to leave your side and kept complaining about the uncomfortable infirmary beds."

That sounded exactly like Tony. He grew irritable when he couldn't sleep or distract himself. It must have been torture for him, sitting here for weeks, waiting.

Loki nodded. He would make sure his mortal was as comfortable as possible.

Carefully, he slipped his arms beneath Tony and lifted him. A moment later, he was in their chambers, laying his companion down on the soft mattress.

For a brief moment, he considered undressing him entirely—then smirked at the thought of Tony's reaction.

No, it wasn't wise to tease the sick. He decided to leave the pants where they were.

Settling beside his mortal, he pulled the covers over them both. Loki was exhausted. Sustaining magic over such a long period drained him, and he was certain he would wake up even more fatigued tomorrow—his magic would continue working on Tony overnight, whether he willed it or not.

To stop it, he would have to sleep in another room.

That, of course, was not an option.

He pressed a gentle kiss to Tony's forehead, and his mortal smiled in his sleep.

"Good night, my love."

Tony surfaced from a dreamless sleep, blinking into the darkness.

He became aware of several things at once. The familiar blue glow of the Arc Reactor was no longer coming from his chest—which felt strangely light—but from the nightstand beside him. The Reactor sat there like some bizarre bedside lamp, casting the room in an eerie blue light. His heartbeat stuttered, then pounded painfully, his breaths coming in shallow bursts.

He wasn't in the infirmary anymore. He was in Loki's bed—their bed.

A warm body stirred beside him, and a hand slid across his abdomen. Fingers traced lightly over his navel, then moved to his side, finally coming to rest there.

In his sleep, Loki shifted closer, as if sensing that Tony was teetering on the edge of a panic attack.

He mumbled something unintelligible against Tony's shoulder and pulled him in.

And just like that, the panic dissipated.

He was safe.

The Reactor had been removed because he no longer needed it. The shrapnel in his chest was gone. Loki was here.

Tony inhaled deeply, taking in the comforting scent of pine and leather.

His body relaxed again, and only then did he notice something else—he was surrounded by a faint green shimmer. That made him smirk.

Turning his head slightly, he studied his sleeping god. Loki looked utterly exhausted. Healing him must have taken its toll. He had insisted on performing the procedure himself, and Tony had secretly been relieved.

Hjálmarr was skilled, but Tony trusted his personal healer far more. Loki knew his body inside and out, which meant everything had probably ended up in the right place.

And now, that green glow was back—just like that night in the Stark Tower's dimly lit medical bay, what felt like a lifetime ago. Loki's magic was still working on him, even as its master slept deeply.

A tender smile crossed Tony's lips—the kind he sincerely hoped he never showed in public. He knew exactly how smitten he looked right now, but he couldn't help it.

Gently, he pressed a kiss to Loki's cheek, and the god let out a soft sigh.

Absolutely adorable, Tony thought.

But what was he supposed to do about the magic still fussing over him? It had to be draining Loki further, and his god already looked exhausted.

"Uh… hey, firefly," he whispered toward the shimmering light. "I really appreciate the effort, but he needs you more than I do."

Nothing happened.

"Come on, cut it out."

He waved a hand through the air like he was dispersing smoke, and the glow flickered.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you, firefly. Take the rest of the night off."

Fascinated, he watched as the glow slowly retreated, swirling like mist before sinking back into Loki's body.

Weird.

Satisfied with himself, he snuggled closer to his god and drifted back to sleep.

Loki was roused from sleep by a mischievous hand tracing circles on his back, slowly wandering downward. When it finally reached its destination—his ass—a kiss was placed on the nape of his neck. He begrudgingly opened his eyes.

As expected, he was more exhausted than yesterday, though only slightly. He let out a low growl, a warning for the wandering hand to stop. Warm breath tickled his ear.

"I'd really love to see your blue ass again," a voice whispered, and suddenly, Loki was wide awake.

He bolted upright, only to be met with Tony's cheeky grin.

"I'm fine, I don't have brain damage, and yes, I mean it," Tony said, his gaze never wavering.

Loki blinked. "WHAT?"

He couldn't be serious.

For a moment, Loki considered arguing but decided against it. Instead, he pushed Tony back into the pillows and began a brief examination of his freshly healed chest.

Tony, utterly unfazed, grabbed a strand of Loki's hair and gave it a playful tug. "Hey, babe, did you hear me?"

Loki finished his inspection and, in what he hoped was a dignified manner, pried the strand from Tony's grasp.

"Yes, and you can take your nonsense elsewhere," he growled.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't joking." He sat up, eyes gleaming with intent. "I was serious. I want to see you like that again."

Loki shot him an exasperated look. "Why?"

He genuinely didn't understand. What was Tony trying to accomplish?

The answer came in the form of a kiss and a softly murmured, "Please."

Not a real answer.

There was no point in arguing—Tony's expression made that abundantly clear. Either Loki gave him what he wanted, or he'd walk away. And if he did that, they'd just end up fighting later, which Loki wasn't in the mood for.

So he sighed—long and pointed, just to make his displeasure known.

With deliberate slowness, he pushed the covers aside and shifted. Then, arms folded behind his head, he sank back into the pillows and closed his eyes.

"There. Wake me when you're done."

It was easier than he'd expected.

Two weeks ago, the thought of lying in bed, relaxed, in his Jotun form would have been unthinkable. But Tony made everything easier. Again and again, he asked Loki to shift, to let him see, to walk around as he truly was. And slowly, ever so slowly, Loki found that he didn't mind being blue anymore.

Sometimes, he even caught himself enjoying the way Tony looked at him.

Even now, he could feel the fascinated gaze trailing over his skin. And seconds later, warm fingers traced the markings on his body.

"You know a lot about Frost Giants," Tony mused.

Loki cracked open one ruby-red eye.

"What would you have done if you found out you were adopted?" he asked.

The day Loki had discovered the truth, he'd stormed into the library and read everything he could find about Frost Giants and Jotunheim.

Tony hummed, fingers still gliding over cool skin. "I guess I'd try to figure out where I came from," he murmured.

Loki closed his eye again.

Warm—almost hot—fingertips danced over his forehead. He bit his lip—nearly sighed.

"Why are the markings on your forehead golden instead of dark blue?"

Loki opened his eye once more, meeting Tony's curious gaze.

"I don't know. I couldn't find anything about it in the records." He shut his eye again, and a memory surfaced—words echoing in his mind.

Father told me you were no ordinary Frost Giant, but a prince among them and…

And?

…and a prince of Asgard. His son.

Could it have something to do with that?

"Hmm," Tony murmured before nudging Loki's side. "Roll over. I really do wanna see your ass."

Loki's eyes snapped open, narrowing into a glare.

Tony, completely undeterred, took Loki's hands in his own and pressed warm kisses to his clawed fingertips.

The contrast of Tony's pale skin against his deep blue was still disorienting—almost as much as the fact that Tony didn't seem the least bit bothered by it.

Then Tony started licking his fingers.

Flustered, Loki yanked his hands away and begrudgingly rolled over.

Honestly, this man had no shame whatsoever.

His grumbling turned into a startled yelp when Tony suddenly yanked his pants down.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?!" Loki barked, twisting to look over his shoulder.

He was promptly prevented from moving any further by the simple fact that Tony was now sitting on his thighs.

"Ha! I knew it!" Tony crowed triumphantly.

Loki struggled to escape but was thoroughly pinned. Instead, he settled for glaring daggers over his shoulder.

A low, dangerous growl rumbled in his chest. "WHAT?"

If Tony weren't freshly healed, Loki would have thrown him off by now. But he couldn't be too rough, so he merely dug his claws into the sheets and waited—furious—for an answer.

"I knew it'd be biteable."

Loki barely had time to process that before teeth sank into his ass.

And then a tongue traced a line along his skin.

Oh, that was too far.

With a snarl, Loki flipped them over, pinning Tony beneath him in an instant.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he hissed. "I just removed your Arc Reactor yesterday. I healed a gaping hole in your chest. You are not in any condition to be doing anything."

What the hell had gotten into him?

Tony merely stretched beneath him, a smug, lazy grin on his lips.

"What?!" Loki snapped, louder than intended.

Why was he being so infuriating?

Then Tony licked his lips and murmured hoarsely, "Babe, you are pure sex on legs."

Loki could only stare at him, dumbfounded.

He had definitely lost his mind.

Something must have gone wrong with the sleeping potion. Maybe there were side effects? Abruptly, Loki sat up and sent his magic sweeping over Tony's body once more.

Nothing.

There was nothing wrong.

And yet, Tony was still looking up at him, still smiling—but now it was different. Not teasing, not challenging.

It was softer.

Then a warm hand cupped Loki's cheek, and Tony simply gazed at him, waiting.

What was he—

Loki swallowed hard as realization hit.

He focused.

And suddenly, he felt it. A wave of affection—strong, overwhelming, and not his own.

Tony's love surged through him, flooding his senses, replacing the cold in his veins with warmth. His entire body shuddered at the sheer intensity of it.

His breath hitched as it washed over him, and Tony let out a satisfied little chuckle.

"Do you get it now?" he murmured.

"You are not a monster."

Five months later / Tony's house in Malibu / Midgard

"Darling, you got to let me know / Should I stay or should I go? / If you say that you are mine / I'll be here 'til the end of time / So you got to let me know / Should I stay or should I go?"

The Clash blasted through Tony's workshop.

For a week now, he had barricaded himself in here, working tirelessly on his latest Iron Man suit.

Mark 42 was supposed to be something special. He had been experimenting with nanobots for a while and wanted to incorporate the technology into his designs. The idea was to inject the bots directly into his body, allowing him to summon the suit to him, no matter where he was. The pieces would fly to him and mold themselves around his body. That was the plan—executing it, however, was proving far more difficult than expected. Not least because his god was anything but thrilled with the idea.

A shame, really, because Loki would have been a huge help when it came to nanotechnology. Tony grimaced and hammered away at his keyboard.

Loki. He was the reason Tony had locked himself away for the past week. His partner had been gone for exactly 11 days, 14 hours, and 47 minutes now.

The first four days without him, Tony had at least tried to maintain some semblance of a normal routine—sleeping, eating.

But after one particularly bad night, he had given up on that. Afghanistan, New York 1.0 and 2.0, Majutas, the Chitauri—it all played out in a never-ending horror show in his mind. And the grand finale of that nightmare had been Loki, lifeless in his arms.

No!

Tony had zero desire to sleep. And eating? Overrated.

Not having Loki beside him every night was pure torture. He had grown so accustomed to his presence that even this short separation felt like an eternity.

He missed him. Desperately. Damn it.

The only thing that helped was work—it had always been Tony's coping mechanism.

He rolled from one screen to the next, checking calculations, adjusting numbers, correcting errors.

"JARVIS, how's it looking?"

The best thing about being back on Earth was having his familiar environment again. He had missed his AI. He had missed his bots.

"All calculations are correct, Sir. It should work," JARVIS responded, and Tony spun in his chair.

He stepped over to one of the workbenches and picked up a gauntlet. "Dum-E, screwdriver, crosshead 25."

Without looking up, he stretched out his hand, and his ever-faithful bot placed a wrench in it instead.

Tony sighed, turned around, and went to find the actual tool himself. "Why haven't I dismantled you yet?" he grumbled under his breath.

"Sir, Doctor Banner is on his way to you," JARVIS announced just before AC/DC's Highway to Hell was rudely interrupted by a loud knock on the high-security door of his workshop.

"Ahh, okay. And how exactly is he getting into the house, Jarv?" Tony asked, exasperated. "I think it's time for another software update, don't you?"

Looking up from his work, he saw Bruce standing there, smiling, holding up a fast-food bag.

"Apologies, Sir. I thought it might be beneficial for Doctor Banner to check in on you. The time since your last sle—"

"YES, THANK YOU!" Tony cut off his AI sharply. He did not need to know how long it had been since he last properly slept. These days, he only managed short, restless naps before jolting awake again.

The glass door unlocked with a soft click, and Bruce stepped inside, bringing with him the delicious aroma of fresh cheeseburgers and coffee.

"Hey, Tony. I brought you something." Bruce set the bag and a large coffee cup on a nearby table, wiped his glasses on his shirt, and glanced over Tony's nanobot calculations.

"Hey, Doc. What's up?" Tony asked, already sniffing his way toward the food. "Oh, this smells amazing. From my favorite place? What do you guys want from me?"

This wasn't just the scent of cheeseburgers—it was the unmistakable stench of bribery.

Bruce chuckled, shaking his head. "You're paranoid, Tony. No one sent me, and I don't want anything from you. I'm just checking in on a friend." He actually sounded a little offended.

"Mmpf, sorry," Tony mumbled around a mouthful of burger. Honestly, he was grateful for the visit—distraction was good. Distraction kept him from thinking about—

"How long has he been gone?"

Damn it, Bruce.

Tony closed his eyes, chewed, swallowed. "11 days, 15 hours, and 14 minutes," he muttered gruffly, avoiding Bruce's gaze. Thankfully, his friend didn't comment on the very precise timekeeping.

"Where do you think they are right now?"

Tony pretended to check his notes, even though he already knew. Bruce frowned. "You're not seriously looking that up right now. You have contact with him, don't you? Or did the communicator fail?"

Tony shook his head. "The communicator works fine. They're on Svartalfheim right now. Home of the Oompa Loompas, or something like that."

Bruce laughed. "You'd make a terrible ambassador, Tony." He reached into the bag for a burger.

"Which is precisely why Asgard sends Loki and not Iron Man. Diplomacy isn't my thing. And if you eat another burger, so help me—"

Bruce grinned mischievously. "So, how's it going? Come on, don't make me drag it out of you."

Tony chewed thoughtfully, reaching for another burger—apparently, he was hungrier than he thought.

"Well, good, I guess. Loki says things went well on Alfheim." He rubbed his beard and sighed. "They were there for five days before heading to Svartalfheim … but …" He swallowed hard. "I haven't heard from him in two days."

He took the lid off the coffee, letting it cool.

He knew his god was fine. Loki and Thor were on a diplomatic mission, forging new alliances in preparation for Thor's ascension to the throne. And everything he'd heard so far via their intergalactic communicator had gone exactly as planned.

But Loki had checked in with him every night since leaving. Telling him not to worry. And yet, of course, Tony was worried.

Bruce watched him closely. "And that's why you're worried?" He rinsed his hands in the sink.

"Yes." Tony stared into his coffee cup.

"I wouldn't overthink it, Tony. He's with Thor—what could possibly go wrong?"

Tony scoffed. "If you knew how many times those two have gotten into trouble together, you wouldn't say that."

His real fear was something else entirely.

He was afraid Loki would go to Jotunheim afterward. Alone. Without telling him. That the perfect night they had shared eleven days ago had been a farewell.

His thumb traced the silver ring on his right hand, and he smiled.

Loki had become quite skilled at teleporting between Asgard and Midgard. Eleven days ago, he had appeared in Tony's workshop—wearing the sleek suit from Pepper and Rhodey's wedding. He had thoroughly kissed Tony before he could even say "hello."

During that kiss, Loki had snapped his fingers, and Tony had felt his own clothing shift to match his god's. By the time the magic settled, he was standing there—freshly showered, dressed in an Armani suit, but still barefoot. He had been so stunned that he couldn't utter a single word.

Loki had given him a slow, appreciative once-over before nodding in approval and pulling him into an embrace. Then, in the blink of an eye, they had vanished.

A second later, Tony had felt warm sand beneath his feet, the tide lapping at his soles. That was when he had finally regained his voice—but Loki had ignored his questions, simply taking his hand and leading him forward.

In the end, it had been a candlelit dinner on the beach—on a secluded island, under a sky so breathtaking that Tony wasn't sure whether it was real or just another one of Loki's magical embellishments. When his god set his mind to something, even Tony Stark could no longer keep up.

Then Loki had slipped the ring onto his finger—and completely knocked him off balance.

Tony had told Loki once, half-joking, that if they ever did this, he wanted the full experience—rings, roses, the whole deal. Beneath the teasing, though, there had been a sliver of truth. And of course, Loki had seen right through him.

His god could read him like an open book.

Tony was still absentmindedly running his thumb over the ring when Bruce pulled him out of his thoughts.

"I'm sure everything's fine. When were they supposed to be back?"

Tony sighed and glanced up at his friend, who had stepped closer. "No idea. That little detail was conveniently left out," he said dryly.

Trying to get a precise time frame from gods was harder than one might think. "You just get vague phrases like 'It takes as long as it takes.'"

His eyes narrowed as Bruce's hand moved suspiciously close. "Hey, what are you doing?" He batted it away.

"Sorry to say it, Tony, but you look awful," Bruce said, his voice laced with concern as he studied him.

"Oh, thanks, really appreciate that," Tony muttered, flopping back into his chair. He took another sip of coffee before resuming his work, feeding data into the computer.

"When was the last time you actually slept?" Bruce pulled up a chair of his own, and when Tony only grumbled in response, he turned to JARVIS instead. The AI wasted no time throwing him under the bus.

"The last recorded nap was 97 hours ago and lasted precisely 17.42 minutes. Mister Stark last slept in his bed seven days ago, Sir. He was woken after five hours and 13 minutes by a nightmare, which led to a panic attack. Since then, he has not left the workshop."

Tony froze mid-motion. Dirty traitor!

"Shut up, Jarv!" he snapped, and the AI immediately fell silent.

"Tony…" Bruce began, but Tony was already back on his feet, moving toward his workbench.

"Save it, Doc. I know what I'm doing."

He didn't want a lecture. He just wanted a distraction. He wanted to finish the suit, run tests on the nanobots, integrate the Arc Reactor—he wanted… he wanted… Loki.

His fingers traced the ring again.

Will you be mine—forever? / Yes!

That night had been perfect.

He let out a quiet sigh, bracing both hands against the table.

Bruce rested a hand on his shoulder. "You need to sleep, Tony. I know you don't want to hear it, but this—what you're doing—it's not healthy."

Tony met his friend's gaze, holding it for a long moment. Bruce knew why he wasn't sleeping—he was fighting the same demons. Which meant Tony didn't have to say it out loud.

"What if I stay?" Bruce offered. "I can sit next to you and wake you if a nightmare comes."

Tony turned his gaze back to the scattered suit components on the table. After a beat, he gave the smallest nod.

"…Can we test the nanobots first?" he asked quietly.

Loki materialized silently in Tony's bedroom, his gaze sweeping the dimly lit room. His mortal was nowhere to be seen.

With a weary sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut.

The past two days had been exhausting—dwarves were exhausting. But in the end, they had reached an agreement. The dwarves had promised to send a delegation to the upcoming coronation.

Since they were dwarves, of course, negotiations had taken place underground. Spending five days trapped beneath the surface had done little to improve Loki's mood. With each passing day, his irritation had grown, but he had maintained his composure before his hosts, remaining the perfect diplomat.

The diplomat I'm expected to be, he thought sourly.

He was almost looking forward to Jotunheim—at least there were no caves there.

He pulled open the terrace door and stepped outside, inhaling the salty sea breeze with a quiet hunger. His gaze drifted over the coastline, relishing the vast expanse of open sky above him. The wind tousled his hair, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to savor the feeling of freedom.

No obligations here on Midgard, no expectations, no negotiations, no forced smiles. At least not yet. For now, he was free of all responsibility, bound only to his beloved. A soft smile played on his lips as he turned back toward the darkened room.

As he stepped inside, a gentle light flickered to life.

"Welcome back, Sir," JARVIS greeted him.

"Thank you, JARVIS. Where is he?" Loki asked, though he already had a suspicion.

"Mister Stark is in the workshop, Sir. Doctor Banner is with him."

Loki sighed. He wasn't in the mood for company, even if it was Bruce.

For a moment, he considered taking the stairs but opted for the faster route instead. A heartbeat later, he materialized in the dimly lit workshop, his eyes scanning the room in mild surprise.

He had expected to be greeted by blaring rock music and Tony's endless chatter, but silence met him instead.

Loki turned in a slow, elegant circle until his gaze landed on two sleeping figures in the corner of the room. Bruce was slumped in an armchair, a book resting on his chest, his breathing deep and even. The second figure lay sprawled on the only couch in the workshop—Anthony.

His sleep was restless.

Loki sank to his knees beside him, brushing gentle fingers over Tony's cheek.

How I've missed this face.

He pressed a tender kiss to the furrowed brow, smoothing away the tension. A small smile tugged at his lips. He didn't want to wake him. If Tony was sleeping here, with Bruce watching over him, it could only mean one thing—Doctor Banner had to have convinced him to rest.

Can I not leave him alone for a single week without him doing something reckless?

With practiced ease, Loki placed his fingertips against Tony's temple and murmured a spell. Instantly, his lover's sleep deepened, his body relaxing, his expression softening.

Loki rose fluidly to his feet and turned to Bruce, casting the same spell over him.

"JARVIS, is the guest room prepared?" he whispered, careful not to wake them.

"Yes, Sir," the AI responded just as softly.

Loki slid his arms beneath Bruce and lifted him effortlessly. A second later, he stood in the guest room, gently settling the sleeping scientist into bed. Then, he returned for Tony.

As he scooped his mortal into his arms, Tony stirred, instinctively reaching for him even in sleep. His fingers curled into the fabric of Loki's tunic, clinging to him. Loki's expression softened as he gazed down at his beloved.

"I missed you, my love," he whispered.

Tony murmured his name in reply.

Loki wrinkled his nose. By the gods, when was the last time he bathed?

No, he definitely couldn't leave him alone for a week.

With a smothe turn he transported them to the master bedroom. He laid Tony gently on the large bed and, with a flick of his fingers, erased the lingering grime and dressed him in something more comfortable—just boxers, nothing else.

At the sight, Loki felt a pang of disappointment that his lover was asleep. But as he sensed the depth of Tony's exhaustion, he pushed the thought of sex aside. What have you been doing in my absence to wear yourself out like this?

Shedding his own clothing, Loki slipped into bed with a sigh of relief, stretching luxuriously as the plush mattress cradled him. Comfort like this was unheard of in Svartalfheim, and even Alfheim had only come close.

But the best part was the warmth beside him.

Even in sleep, Tony found him like a magnet, rolling over and nuzzling into Loki's chest.

"Loki…" he murmured again, sending a pleasant shiver down Loki's spine.

The god let out a contented sigh. Here, he didn't have to pretend. Here, he could simply be.

Jotunheim, Midgard, the Nine Realms—they could all wait. The coronation could wait.

The only thing that mattered was Anthony.

Smiling, Loki pulled his one true love closer, wrapping both arms around him. He breathed in the familiar scent of sandalwood, lemon, and motor oil, feeling truly home.

The End

To be continued…