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“I see they’ve sent in the cavalry.”
Loki slowly turned in his glass cell - or cage he should say. He wore a slight smirk on his lips, eyes faintly narrowed as the sound of his leather boots shifted on the floor, filling the silence in the room. There you stood, donned in the armour of a warrior. It seemed a lot had changed since he fell from the Bifrost. He was hardly surprised, you had always wanted to be a ‘protector’… Yet his tone as he said those words was one of mockery. He knew this was Thor’s doing, sending you to try and talk some ‘sense’ into him. The one person Thor thought maybe he would listen to…
“I assume my brother and his new friends believe you can, what?” Loki continued, tilting his head faintly, walking slowly closer to the glass. “Offer solace? Be a balm? Remind me of ‘who I really am’…?” His lips tugged into a sharp, sardonic smile as he shook his head, hands clasped behind his back. “Tell me how I ‘don’t need to do this’…” You had yet to say a word, simply observing the God turned attempted Ruler. “Thor told you of my true parentage, did he not?” Loki raised a brow. “I was never one of you.” A pause. “And I certainly will not be swayed with sentiment.”
It was a declaration. A hypocritical one at that. Every action since he found out about his true heritage had been born from sentiment, whether he liked to admit it or not. And the way you had yet to say a single word… It irked him more than he liked. His sharp smile slowly fell, a steely expression taking over his features. A low rumble left him, almost sound of frustration as he turned once again on his heel, slowly beginning to pace the round cage.
“It appears much has changed since I was cast into an abyss…” Loki’s voice held an edge to it, perhaps even the faintest traces of hurt at the memory of Odin’s last words echoing in his mind. The simple ‘no, Loki’ that had left his fath-… Asgard’s King’s lips. Rejection. “You don a warriors garb.” He paused his steps, glancing back at you. “Asgardian armour, a fierce expression and yet…” His eyes narrowed analytically. “Your eyes reveal your… disappointment. Your uncertainty. Your doubt.” Once again, his lips twitched upwards, this time into a slight smirk. “So, enlighten me…” He tilted his head. “What do you hope to gain?”
You had remained silent, watching the man you had once called your friend. Your dearest friend… Yet, somehow now he felt like a stranger. You had seen Loki be angry, jealous, cunning, manipulative… But never this detached. Especially, not to you. Your lips pursed as you dared take a few steps closer to the glass between you both, your leathers lightly creaking as you did so. Loki mirrored your movements, also taking a few steps closer. You were disappointed. You were uncertain. And your doubt was regarding your friendship with the God of Mischief.
“Nothing.” You finally spoke, voice low, almost quiet. “I came to Midgard to aid Thor, to protect the mortals-“ A breathy, almost mocking laugh cut you off. It was brief, Loki’s hands unclasping from behind his hand to fall at his sides. “And to ensure the Tesseract is secured.” You continued, trying to ignore his clear dismissal of your words. “This isn’t about what I can gain.”
“Hm.” Loki hummed lowly, smirk still on his face. You fought the urge to shift under his calculating stare, knowing he likely saw right through your words. Loki was adept at finding weaknesses, but you both knew he didn’t need to probe too much to find yours.
Of course, you were in love with him. He had been a constant in your life since you were children. You had seen him at his worst - or at least, what you had thought was his worst - and his best. Just as he had you. There was always something unspoken between you, but neither of you had ever admitted it openly or even really admitted it to yourselves - not fully. And now… Well, everything that happened before Thor’s coronation seemed like a distant memory. It felt cold. And that hurt more than anything. You didn’t know what was worse, the feeling of grief you had carried the whole year after his fall from the Bifrost or this, right now. It was a different type of grief.
“Could you do it?” Loki’s sudden question brought you out from your thoughts, your brows furrowing ever so slightly. Loki’s smirk had disappeared, replaced with a look that was somehow steely as it was curious. “Could you stop me? Any means necessary?” A pause. “To protect this-“ He gestured loosely around him with a hand. “-lost realm?”
Silence.
You raised your chin faintly, trying to remain composed and neutral. But of course, he knew what your silence meant.
“Just as I had suspected.” He murmured, almost softly. “You see… it’s where you and I differ.” He took a step closer to the glass. “I wouldn’t hesitate.” And just as quickly as the softer tone appeared, it disappeared. “Not even for a second.” He tilted his head downwards, the shadows from the holding cells lighting giving him a darker look, sinister almost.
“I don’t believe you.” You countered, although the slight waver in your voice said otherwise. There it was… That doubt.
“Sentiment is a weakness.” Loki continued lowly. “Foolish, dangerous… And it gets you killed.” His voice was barely above a whisper, yet held the edge of danger he had spoken of. You swallowed the lump in your throat, taking a quiet breath.
“We were friends once.” You raised a brow, shaking your head faintly. “And now? We are… enemies?” There was that brief, breathy laugh again.
“Words spoken like a child…” Loki continued, taking another step closer, his shadow growing taller with each step. “Holding onto the memories of a lost boy.” His lips curled in what looked like disgust, his eyes flickering over you. “Pathetic.” The simple word cut right through you, making your composure falter. “You came to Midgard, not to protect but to try and reconcile. Letting sentimentality rule your actions. And it will be your undoing.”
You hadn’t even realised you’d been holding your breath until his fist suddenly collided with the glass, making you gasp, stepping back as he glared at you. It was cold, cruel… It was a side to Loki you hadn’t seen before.
“You stand in a warriors attire, yet you let emotion control your actions.” He snarled. “Your ancestors slain monsters like me and you came here to talk!?” He spat, his anger only growing. However, deep down, buried underneath all his animosity, his need for vengeance, his craving to be seen as a worthy ruler, he felt… hurt. Guilt even. The way you looked at him… Your eyes so expressive, so open like a book. His words were hurting you, just as he had designed them to. Then why did it affect him?
“You’re nothing but a child, interfering in affairs of Gods and Kings. If I were you…” His breath fogged the glass lightly from how close his face was to it, his fist uncurling as his palm pressed against the glass. “I would return to Asgard and stay out of my way.” It was a warning, not quite a threat. A quick breath left your nose, lips downturned, brows creased… Yes, it was a warning… But a part of you thought that perhaps… Perhaps it was born from care that he still felt somewhere inside.
“And if I refuse?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper, your eyes searching his. Loki’s hardened stare slipped for the quickest of moments, so quick that you wouldn’t have caught it if you hadn’t have been staring at him so intently.
It was the same look he had worn when you had insisted to go to Jotunheim with him, Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three. But that time… He was able to stop you, to keep you from accompanying them. This was different. You were on opposite sides, and he knew the mortals would not care what became of you in the war he sought to ignite.
“Then you would be foolish.” He finally spoke, voice a low murmur. “Return home.” He reiterated, more of an order than a warning now. Perhaps even a hint of a plea.
“Not without you.”
The words left you before you could stop them, the warriors facade completely melting away. Before him now stood his friend… The person he grew up with, the person he had once felt he could trust… But that trust broke with Odin and Frigga’s lie he had discovered. He couldn’t trust anyone. He wasn’t even sure he could trust himself anymore… His hand fell from the glass, his eyes blinking as he took a step back, chin raising as he spoke:
“So be it.”
The battle had begun.
Loki had once again managed to pull the strings, manipulating the team and getting the war he had wanted. He had fought his brother, and when Thor had forced him to look out at the world he was destroying… For a moment, the mask slipped. The vengeance, the rage, the envy… The craving to be a ruler… It disappeared for a second. In that moment, he felt like the lost boy. Destruction, chaos, death and pain… That was what he was inflicting. ‘Madness’ as Thor had called it.
Was it madness?
And for a second, Loki considered backing down. A part of him just… wanted it to be over. But the part of him, the logical part, remembered the consequences if he failed. And it surged him onwards.
But it was futile. The Avengers had won. He couldn’t help but feel some relief, the sceptres influence ebbing. It had bolstered him, intensifying his motives, his conviction… And now it was gone… Reality began to set in. As the Avengers stood before him, all ready for another round, Loki sat against the steps, cuts and scrapes littering his face from the fight. Exhausted. He was exhausted.
His eyes trailed over the triumphant team, before they flickered in your direction. His blue eyes took in your own exhausted face. You had survived… And the relief he felt at seeing you alive… It showed for a moment on his face. However, you didn’t escape unharmed. Your hand clutched your side, fingers bloodied and dirty. Your skin had sustained bruises, cuts and was covered in dust. Before him now was a warrior.
“If it’s all the same to you…” Loki’s eyes travelled back to the Avengers. “I’ll have that drink now.” He raised his brows faintly, noticing the small smirk Stark wore at his words. This was the Loki you remembered. Not the one you had been facing the last few days.
Thor didn’t waste any time in moving to apprehend him, although Loki had no plans of trying to escape. Punishment from Odin seemed a much better prospect than the consequences he would face at the hands of Thanos. As Thor hoisted him to his feet, Loki let out a quiet hiss, one of pain and frustration. It was then he saw you approaching, just as Thor cuffed his wrists.
“I’m impressed.” Loki raised a brow, eyeing you. “You survived.” He didn’t know what he expected you to say, but the look you gave him… told him everything he needed to know. “Well, you conquered your first battle.” He continued lowly. “I believe that is cause for celebration.” Thor glared at the God of Mischief, clearly not appreciating his candidness about his actions. He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.
“You think this is amusing?” You breathed out, your own frustrations and anger rising to the surface. Loki’s face remained neutral. “You think I wish to celebrate after the horrors I have just faced?” You shook your head in disbelief, your voice raising slightly, causing a few of the others in the room to glance your direction.
“Uh oh, looks like we have a domestic.” You heard Stark mutter wryly as he closed the suitcase which was now housing the Tesseract.
“People are dead, Loki. Their home destroyed!” You continued, taking a shaky breath. Loki’s lack of emotion only reinforced your frustration. In fact, he didn’t think he had ever seen you so angry. “All this for a throne you don’t even want.” You narrowed your eyes, taking a step closer. Thor remained close, almost between you, worried it could quickly turn hostile. “If sentiment is my weakness, then what is yours?” You asked rhetorically, making Loki’s jaw twitch. “If my actions have been that of a child, wanting my friend back, then what are yours?”
He knew what you were implying. That his own actions were that born of the lost boy that was still somewhere deep inside of him. And it stung, it got to him… because he knew it to be true. His actions were born from bitterness, rage, envy and most of all… Sentiment.
Loki took a step closer, Thor shifting on his feet almost nervously, seeing the way his brother’s posture had tensed. But as Loki looked down at you, his features remained as composed as possible. The air was tense… His unpredictability weaving around the room. And then…
“I’m glad you did not perish.”
It was simple. But he knew you could read between the lines. It was an admission, in Loki’s way. Your tight features relaxed faintly, processing his words. And that doubt, that uncertainty you had felt before when facing him on the Hellcarrier… It began to ebb slightly. Perhaps… Perhaps he wasn’t a complete stranger after all… Maybe he still was your friend. Somewhere beneath all that hurt.
Thor placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder, steering him away from you. But Loki held your gaze as he was ushered towards the elevator, unspoken words being exchanged with just a look. It wasn’t quite an apology, or remorse… But it was similar to that of a plea. A plea not to give up on him as his father had. It hit you right in the chest.
There he was.
Your friend.
Perhaps it was foolish… dangerous… And maybe it would be your undoing… Or maybe sentiment wasn’t a weakness after all. And maybe… Just maybe… It was the thing that could give you strength.