Chapter Text
Tony watched as Thor rushed his adopted sibling through corridors – gagged and submissive. He was relived, but suspicion did not let him go.
At first, he, like everyone else, was happy that the Hitler wannabe will be taken back home, where people knew how to deal with a bratty God.
After the initial euphoria subsided, though and shawarma reminded him that he had run past his twenties fifteen years ago, Stark’s brain kicked in. The questions that popped in his observant mind didn’t let him sleep, but, alas, he couldn’t ask Loki because he conveniently was silenced under the excuse that words gave him power. Seriously!? Did the Wonderland folks think them to be idiots?
They apparently did, and, honestly, S.H.I.E.L.D sold them short. Nicky pooped his pants so bad, he was happy to give Thor everything –the tesseract, Loki, vast knowledge of new and unbreeched - just to see the guy off the planet. Stark heatedly disagreed but why listen to him, right? He was only one of the most influential people on this ball with resources that can put most countries to shame and a genius IQ to top it, but…yeah…feel free to scold him like a child and send him into the corner.
In retrospect, the theft he pulled after Nicky had the nerve to reprimand him in front of his newly formed cult proved that he was a child, but who cares? He displayed reckless behaviour way before S.H.I.E.L.D. decided to make a decent human being out of him, so nothing was new in the world.
“Let’s start, J.” Tony commanded rubbing his hands together. The sceptre Loki inconspicuously forgot on the roof of his tower was finally his to toy with and he couldn’t wait to dive into the dissection.
The energy it emitted was close to the readings he got from the tesseract, but way out of line. Tony would bet his ass it was sentient.
Stark snorted. The level of idiocy the people around him displayed lately started to rub him the wrong way. How could they rely on the words of an otherworldly entity without asking the other side for, at very least, clarifications? He regretted not breaking into Loki’s cell. Sure the guy was nuts, but after Hulk recalibrated whatever short circuited inside him, Stark was willing to try.
The energy from the sceptre spiked and moved, catching Tony’s undivided attention. It spread tentatively, forming a tentacle like limb and blindly searched almost like it was sniffing around. Stark stared in wonder, his fingers unconsciously moved to touch but he snatched them away at the last moment. Too bad the octopus felt his heat or something. It dived after his hand and, when it caught him, Stark’s world drowned in brilliant blue.
<**>
When he came to two things became instantly apparent. First, he wasn’t in the tower. Second, it wasn’t his body - if the childish hands, making an intricate gesture in front of him, were anything to go by.
He tried, experimentally, to move the limbs, but they were uncooperative, and it quickly dawned upon him that he was simply here for the ride. Great. That was just marvellous. The fucking sceptre dragged him inside what he presumed was Loki’s childhood memory. Stark sighed a long-suffering sigh and settled in to watch.
The child repeated the movement again and again. Tony could feel the slight annoyance coming from him, but other than that he looked determined. It was sort of endearing to watch how young Loki grumbled and cursed while practicing magic but, at some point, he got bored. There was only so much finger wiggling a guy could watch.
Stark tried to focus his attention on something else, but the gaze scope didn’t allow him much. Loki was focused on his practice completely and that was something Tony could relate to. He was also easily obsessed with a project: doing and redoing it until it was perfect. But, fuck was it tedious to sit through when it was someone else.
Stark was on the verge of exploding when the child must have done the gesture right and the space around them lit up in flames.
Holy shit!
The fire roared around, licking the drapes and walls. The child sprung to his feet, laughing joyfully. Tony could feel the excitement and happiness cursing through Loki’s body, and couldn’t help but smile, congratulating the boy on mastering the spell, and remarking at what an astounding display of power it was and the fact that, during the invasion, Loki hardly used any of it.
The fire was dancing widely around the room but, nothing got damaged. Loki stretched his dainty hand and it curled around his limb, warming the skin. He felt the thin lips stretch in satisfactory grin and regretted he could not see the look on the boy’s face.
“LOKI!” The growl startled them both. Tony sensed the fear and panic leaping in the boy, fire getting out of the control and collapsing into itself, burning his skin. He heard the child hiss in pain but, still managed to erase the spell. The door opened with a bang, and a white, boorish version of Nick Fury stormed into the room. “How many times I must repeat: no magic in this house!” The man yelled grabbing Loki by the burned arm, squeezing it painfully.
Loki was petrified. Tears willed up in his eyes but, when he spoke, his voice was steady.
“Father, I can prove that magic is a useful tool if only you give me a chance.”
It must have been Odin who backhanded the boy so hard he got a whiplash and the skin on his lip split.
“Magic is a woman’s art. I won’t allow my son to practice it or do you want for the whole palace to see your twisted tendencies? As if your mischief is not embracement enough.”
“In many realms, my mischief would be considered strategy, father.” Loki rebuked, despite being horrified by the man. Tony swallowed nervously when Odin burned the boy with an icy stare.
“So be it.” He said, sliding his hand down Loki’s arm to clutch his fingers tightly and then bending them swiftly. The bones easily crushed under the force. Loki cried out, trying to move away, but Odin held him tightly, bringing more harm. “Let it be a lesson to you. Cross me again, and you will find yourself without the means to practice this despicable atrocity.” He then pushed the boy roughly making him fall. “I forbid you from contacting the healers.” Were his parting words to a trembling boy.
Loki stared at the closed door for a long time, cradling his injured hand to his body gingerly before curling into a ball and sobbing helplessly.
The room smelled of burnt skin and cotton. Stark could see only darkness and feel despair. It was choking him from the inside. He could not believe the cruelness he just witnessed. How in the fucking fuck could that happen!? Where was Thor!? Where was his mother!? It was straight child abuse.
“Tony! Tony! Tony!” He heard the worried voice of Pepper reaching him through the disgust and anger he was feeling. “TONY!” The panic in her voice was skyrocketing and he forced his eyelids to unglue themselves. “Thank God!” She exclaimed hugging him tightly.
He hugged her back weakly, his body still in shock from the sudden mental assault. Her familiar scent helping to shake the nightmare from his shoulders. They may have ditched the romantic piece of their relationship but, other than that, they were going strong.
“What happened?” She asked him, loosening the embrace just enough to look at him.
“I don’t know, Pep.” He answered truthfully. “One moment I was working on X-thing, and the other BAM - lucid hallucination Tarantino style.”
“What did you see?” She inquired, shifting to run her fingers soothingly through his hair.
“Loki.” Tony shared, exhaling snakingly. “It was weird, Pep. I was stuck in his head, watching a memory, I guess of creepy ass parenting. If that’s how he was treated I’m not surprised in the least ‘bout New York.”
She looked at him warily.
“Tony, he used that to manipulate minds. It could be a trick.”
Stark shuddered remembering the all-consuming fear and desperation he felt. No one would want to share this. No one.
“I don’t think it is.” He murmured, confused by all of it.
Yeah, Loki had a shitty life, but who didn’t? He was still a murderer. One sad flashback didn’t justify countless bodies on his hands. It does not justify the blood on yours too. The sudden whisper in his head made him jump. The fuck!? Maybe Pepper was right. Maybe that shit was playing mind games or maybe he was going mad, who knew?
“How about a drink, Pep? Think I deserve one?” He teased, clumsily getting up with her help.
“No, but I do.” She sassed him back.
“Let’s get wasted.” Tony declared, stumbling into the elevator, making her giggle. Nobody noticing a faint green glow settling inside the arc.
<**>
In his dreams, Tony was staring at the most appealing teen he has ever seen. She was tall and started to curve in all the right places. Just a bit, Stark thought, and she will become the fairest of them all. That was no surprise either, with her kissable lips, wavy, lush hair - which he desperately wanted to twist around his fingers - wicked, emerald eyes, winning smirk. She was a Goddess.
Tony watched Loki dancing before the mirror in glee; turning and twisting to look at himself; at his handiwork and swallowed nervously.
Stark was never shy to admit that he was a bit loose in this department – he loved a pretty face, and the God was ranking number one on his list, his craziness and wish to fry Earth hardly dimmed the appeal. However, like this – like a genius, young prodigy that managed to crack a shift shaping spell on his own to morph into a sex-on-legs stud – he was irresistible.
Tony yearned to touch him, to breath him in and to ask what the fuck went so terribly wrong. How did he go from this jubilant, curious being to the bastard who threw him out the window? And while he was at it – why he never used the spells? How did he become a sappy bond villain?
The Loki he sees through the mirror is a far cry from the Loki he knows. The dread sinks in. Stark gets the feeling that the answers to his silent questions will be answered in the most morbid ways.
He catches the shadow in the reflection a second before the God does, but it does nothing to prepare him for the assault. A male body pins Loki to the mirror, sharp teeth nipping at her ear. Tony can smell the rotten, sweet scent of ale and it makes his stomach recoil.
She tries to struggle, to drop the spell, but the panic is stronger. She is trapped in the incantation and by the man, who is groping her shamelessly.
“Don’t pretend you don’t want this.” The man mocks. “Ergi.”
Loki hisses and uses the wall to give her some leverage. She pushes with all her might, trying to turn and stab the attacker, but he snickers at her pitiful attempt, slamming her hard into the mirror. The glass shatters, slicing her skin. Tony could feel pain and the blood trickling down her face. Loki’s vision becomes foggy, a myriad of thoughts running and none staying. Stark feels the cold hands opening her legs; the bite on the neck; the slice of the fabric.
Loki snaps back, screaming, and immediately getting silenced by the hard blow on her face. The mist returns. She tries to push the weight away. She tries to wiggle out of the grasp. The overwhelming scent of ale returns, and something hard pokes her thigh, dangerously close to her core.
She hisses and then everything is overtaken by fire.
The man whales, kicking her into the chest. The bones snaps, but the spell stays. She watches him burn, and Tony can feel the satisfaction. He agrees.
But then there are people in the room. Those bastards are screaming at her, extinguishing the fire. They drag her to Odin who screams at her more.
They don’t listen. They sew her lips shut and throw her into the cell.
There she learns that words are overrated. There HE learns to hate.
<**>
Tony wakes with an erratically beating heart. He can still feel the sting on his lips and revolting scent of the ale. The panic lurking behind his gaze and he’s barely able to reach the side of his bed, before he throws up, making a mess of the sheets and the carpet.
“Are you well, sir?” Jarvis asks in crisp accent, grounding him. He could smell the vomit, and feel it trickling down his chin, a nasty taste in his mouth. His stomach rolls, but he keeps it at bay, gingerly sliding from the bed, not caring that he steps into the mess, and goes to the shower.
His hands are shaking, fingers uncooperative, but he is not discouraged. He has been here before. He knows the twisted and crooked alleys of the assault and the aftermaths intimately. So, he takes a couple of deep, shaky breaths and wills his body to move.
The cold spray of water helps to snap him back to reality. He distances himself from the alien nightmare while the water washes away the salty sweat of fear from his skin.
Tony does not allow his thoughts to grip the memory of crude hands upon Loki’s chest or hard member poking his thigh. He blocks the pain of the needle piercing soft lips or burn of the betrayal when Thor holds him (LOKI!) down. He is not concentrating on the hate and humiliation that runs through the God while he is locked in the dark, stinky cell. Tony acknowledges that it came to pass and that nothing could be done about it; however, the future is still unknown, and for that, he is grateful.
He turns the shower off, and steps out. He is cold and shivering, but his head is crystal clear.
“J,” He says, while drying himself with the soft, warm towels. “Call, Pepper. We need to talk.”