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When Loki and Thor were young, Frigga used to tell them stories. Mainly stories of fierce warriors, dragons and violence, but sometimes even romantic stories, such as the story of soulmates. The older and more naïve brother often claimed, that soulmates were real, but Loki never believed such lies. He was the God of Lies, he knew one when he heard one. Frigga was exceptionally good at lying, but lying nonetheless. Loki had never belonged anywhere, so how could he have belonged to anyone? Who could have ever loved a creature like him? He didn’t have a home in Jotunheim - he was a midget compared to real Frost Giants, and had been left alone to die, when Odin found him. But Asgard wasn’t his home either - Odin had taken him with him to make his own son, Thor Odinson, shine brighter among his disappointment of a half brother, and to use him to establish peace with the Jotuns. Frigga - bless her heart - had taken Loki under her wing, taught him her magic and hoped it would help him find him some sun for himself, find a way to escape from underneath the shadows Odin and Thor cast over him. But after all, Frigga was not his mother, and Loki was not her son. He was a trophy of Odin’s, nothing more.
The mirror shattered, as Loki’s fist came in contact with it with force. Burning hot tears streamed down Loki’s blue cheeks, and he looked up to see his crimson eyes in the mirror, disfigured by cracks along its surface. He was a monster. Asgardians were taught to fear Jotuns, they were the enemy. Loki was the enemy. He often found himself wishing, that Odin would have never found him, that he had been left on that rock to die. After all, his birth right was to die. Odin had said so himself. And after Thanos, after New York… Who was he to rightfully be alive? Loki had thought countless times about taking his life. He couldn’t seem to find a quantum of happiness anywhere. Life had left its markings on him; First the Jotun markings on his blue Jotun form, given to him before birth, then broken bones and scars from fighting Thor as a child and losing, and then… Torture. He could still remember it vividly, like it had just happened. He could feel his skin burning up, his lungs aching from screams of pain Thanos had drawn from him. He could no longer withstand the slightest of touch on his bare skin, even the breath of a wind reminded him of the pain he had endured and woke fright and pain inside him. More burning tears fell from Loki’s eyes and his lower lip trembled. If Odin had seen him now, he surely would have done the job for Loki and killed him himself. What a weak little prince he was.
And then there was Frigga’s death. The only real ally he had ever known, taken from him much too soon. And he hadn’t even been allowed to attend the funeral. He had been locked in the prisons of Asgard like an animal, like a senseless savage. Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly changing back into himself. With soaked green eyes and a still trembling lip, he accessed his memories, and pulled up moments he had shared with his mother alone in the gardens of Asgard. He watched Frigga smile at him and patiently teach him a new magic trick. She radiated warmth and calmness, and for a moment it held him in its comfort. Until his memories disappeared into the back of his brain, as did the comfort looking at a happy Frigga had provided. Loki had never known how Frigga could have loved a monstrous, adopted child like she had, and never would he know such love again. Thanos had confirmed all the thoughts he had had along the years; He wasn’t Laufey’s son and he sure as hell wasn’t Odin’s son, he wasn’t an equal brother of Thor’s, he wasn’t an equal son of Frigga’s, he… He was nothing but an abandoned, scared little boy, lost in the Nine Realms, belonging to none of them. A coldness took over Loki’s chest again, a coldness so freezing, he turned blue again. For once, his appearance matched how he felt inside.
He had been pardoned for his actions in New York, but on one condition: He would join the Avengers. If he refused or even did a sloppy job as an Avenger, he would be imprisoned for life or possibly even executed for his crimes. So Loki had joined, but not to avoid execution; To avoid rotting away in a prison for thousands of years. He had joined the Avengers to die. As collateral damage or sacrificing himself, it didn’t matter… Dying was all that mattered. Sadly he had been doing a somewhat good job with the Avengers and the team always rescued him when he was in the line of fire without defending himself. They often asked, if he had a death wish, but none of them actually thought, he wanted to die. Everyone assumed he was being a dramatic little bitch and rebelling against having to join them. Not once did they think anything near the thought, that nobody infact could hate Loki more than he hated himself. Nobody wanted him dead like he did.
Loki kneeled down on of the Stark Tower’s balconies, as a beautiful, ornamental dagger materialized in his hand. The handle was gold and emerald with spiraling patterns, the sharp, even blade glistening in the moonlight. He kept his armour on - he may have been a disgrace, but never would he die in anything but his armour -, and gently laid his golden helmet beside him. This was not a ceremony or a battle, this was nothing glorious enough for him to be wearing his helmet. She gleamed, the light dancing on her bendy horns. Loki laid a hand on the forehead of the helmet, closing his eyes. “You have served me well, stood with me in many battles, many a man’s blood have I cleansed off you”, he spoke softly. There was something about his helmet, that he had grown attached to. It was just an object, but a very dear object. With a sigh, he lifted his hand off the helmet and focused on his dagger. He took the handle with his both hands and lifted his gaze upwards. The reason he was doing this here, outside, instead of his room in the Tower, was so he could see the stars. He wanted the night sky to be the last thing he saw on Midgard. With a deep breath, he plunged the dagger into his own abdomen.
Air escaped Loki’s lungs with a whine, his large hands gripped the handle so tight his knuckles turned snow white, and his form bent forward over the dagger. Pain spread out through his body for a moment, before the shock kicked in and Loki no longer felt physical pain. The shock allowed him to open his eyes again, which he only now noticed he had shut tightly at some point. He watched the blurry stars with tears in his eyes, not hearing the glass door slide open behind him. “Loki?! What have you done?!” came a concerned voice out of nowhere. Loki closed his eyes again and took a moment to recognize the voice. “Leave me, Stark”, he asked - no, begged -, but Tony only came closer. He gasped and took a step back in terror, when he saw the handle of a dagger glistening in Loki’s hands and the thick, dark red blood running down his armour. Hot, salty tears rose in Tony’s eyes as he threw himself on his knees right beside Loki, loosening his grip of the dagger, to see the wound better. “Oh my God, Loki… What have you done?” Tony’s voice sounded only desperate anymore, as he brought his other hand to caress Loki’s pale cheek. “Loki, don’t go. Don’t leave me. There’s some much I need to tell you, Loki. Hey, Reindeer Games, stay with me. Loki? Loki! Loki, stay with me. I love you.”
The first rays of sunshine woke Tony up. He had dozed off sitting by the window no more than an hour ago, after spending the entire night watching Loki. It was the second morning after Loki’s… Incident, and Tony was not letting him be unguarded for a minute. The rest of the Avengers were still clueless. He hadn’t left Loki’s room or told the team, not even Thor, and he had locked the door to Loki’s room. The only one who knew was Stephen, as Tony had called him in panic to help Loki. He didn’t want anyone to know yet, he didn’t want everyone fussing over Loki and making the Asgardian feel small. Loki always thought nobody loved him or even saw him, but Tony knew him like the back of his hand. He just never got around to telling the God, that he was the first thing Tony saw, when he walked into a room, and just how much he loved what he saw. And now he might never have to opportunity to tell him. “We can only wait, Stark. The damage was not that bad, the blade went straight in and stayed unmoved, but considering the circumstances… Loki might not come back, if he does not wish to”, Stephen had told him. “What the fuck does that mean? That he might just take off into some heavenly light or something, because he was desparate and tried to kill himself, clearly not in his right mind?” Tony had screamed at Stephen, not out of anger towards him, but out of pure worry for Loki. “Or because you don’t want him to wake up, because he’s the villain?”
Loki looked so beautiful despite everything. His head laid on two pillows, cased in white, his raven locks spread out, framing his sculpted face and sharp features. Dark brows were slightly furrowed and one corner of the mouth was in a slight grimace; Loki was medicated, but clearly in heavy discomfort and possibly even pain. If he had just been able to relax, he would have been the most angelic thing Tony had even seen. He stood up off the stool by the window, and walked over to Loki’s bed. Morning light caressed his prominent cheek bones, his long lashes and his curled hair. Stephen and Tony had undressed Loki for surgery, but Tony had put Loki’s forest green henley shirt back on him after he had been bandaged up by Stephen. With the buttons opens and one side folded over, it revealed one of Loki’s collar bones. Tony’s gaze fell from Loki’s sharp jawline down to his beautiful neck and all the way down to his revealed collar bone. It was so visible and beautiful, he almost wanted to kiss it. Loki rarely showed any skin, but Tony had dreamt about what kind of a body was hidden underneath the heavy armour. He would have bet his entire fortune on Loki having a beautiful body he would have loved to explore with his hands, his tongue, his lips, his eyes… He ached for Loki to let him love him. The Asgardian was without a doubt a broken soul, and Tony wanted nothing on this Earth like he wanted to heal Loki.
Waiting for Loki to wake up gave Tony a lot of time to think. He thought about his feelings, about finding Loki on the balcony when he had been on his way to the kitchen for a 2 A.M. snack, and about accidentally telling him that he loved him when he was begging Loki to stay with him. Tony wondered, if Loki was even gonna remember it, or if he would have forgotten about it, due to shock or due to not sharing the feelings Tony had. Mainly he thought about the first time he had met Loki. Fury had showed up with some S.H.I.E.L.D Agents at the Stark Tower, the Agents surrounding a chained Loki. “Honestly, you didn’t seem to mind the chains”, Tony let out a little laugh. Humour had always been a coping mechanism for him. If he laughed, then things weren’t so bad. The Agents had unchained him at Fury’s command, and he had shot some snarky remarks their way, as they did. Tony had not been very impressed with the bad guy joining the Avengers; He would surely be nothing but trouble, and would discredit the Avengers eventually. Such thing never happened, though. Loki’s intelligence, magic and capabilities with daggers came quite handy during combat, and even though someone always had to rescue the dumbass wizard, when he didn’t realize he was getting himself killed, he made for a pretty good Avenger. That’s when it hit Tony. Loki had always known, that he was getting himself killed. He had always known when the enemy had locked him as a target and did not fight it, because that was what he wanted. He wanted to die. The realization shook Tony to his core and sent the coldest thrills down his spine. Loki had wanted to die all along.
“Why do you look like someone died?” A hoarse voice snapped Tony out of his thoughts. “Loki!” he exclaimed and locked a warm embrace around Loki, tears streaming to his cheeks. “You piece of shit, you almost died!” “And yet, somehow I am still alive”, the Asgardian replied with a sarcastic tone, but now Tony was wise enough to hear, that the sarcastic tone was only a front - deep down Loki was actually disappointed to still be alive -, so he just hugged Loki tighter and sobbed a little. “Loki, why the hell would you do that?” he asked, when he finally took a seat in the chair next to Loki’s bed, still holding the God’s hand in his. “Why does anyone take their own life?” “Are you really that miserable with us?” “With-, no, Anthony. This is not about the Avengers”, Loki replied and tried to shake his head, but the motion was enough to make him let out a whimper. “Why are you even here?” Loki’s question made Tony think, that he had forgotten all about his confession of love. He looked down and wondered, what to tell Loki. “What is it about, if not us?” he asked quietly, looking at the white sheets of Loki’s elevated bed. “Personal, Anthony”, the God gave a short answer, not wanting to share with the man in iron. “Talk to me. If it’s not about the Avengers, what is it? I know something about this stuff, Loki, I’ve been on a self-destructive path. Keeping it to yourself will not help you”, Tony tried to convince Loki to talk, keeping his voice soft and steady, even when inside he felt desperate and wanted to cry. “Mortals”, the God huffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s about me, alright? You fools think you hate me with all your hearts, but none of you can even begin to imagine the hatred I feel for myself”, Loki spat out the words like venom, sounding almost angered. “We don’t hate you, Loki. The team is starting to see you as one of us, and Thor loves you. Peter loves you. Yeah, Loki, that kid’s crazy about you. He always wants to hang out with you, he thinks you’re so cool and kinda scary and he just wants you to teach him your ways”, Tony’s eyes brighten up, when he talks about Peter, who’s become practically Tony’s son by now. “He’s always shushing everyone, if someone tries to claim you’re too dangerous for him to mess with.”
Tony came down from his excitement only to realize that there’s now sadness in Loki’s green eyes. “What is it? Was it something I said?” he became instantly worried. “I’m too dangerous for Peter. I’m too dangerous for anyone. I’m a monster and I should be treated as one”, Loki answered, turning his face away from Tony, but he gently grabbed Loki’s chin and turned him to face him. “Loki, Peter loves you. You’re not the bad guy.” “I’ve always been unwanted, Stark, why would I suddenly be wanted? The Jotuns didn’t want me, Asgard didn’t want me, and Midgard definitely doesn’t want me.” “You were mind-controlled”, Tony defended him. “Because I am weak. It would never had happened to Thor”, he replied, exposing his broken soul to Tony for a quick glance, and it broke Tony’s heart. He shut his eyes and pressed a kiss on Loki’s lips. The world muted around them, and suddenly there was no one else. There was only Loki, his dry lips and the saltiness of Tony’s own tears. When he broke the kiss, he saw Loki staring at him in horror. “What- What are you doing?” “I kissed you, idiot.” “No, don’t- Don’t do that, Stark, don’t you dare go catch feelings for me. I am a monster, do you understand me?” “Too late. And you’re not a monster, Reindeer Games”, Tony smirked lovingly at the Asgardian, “you’re just misunderstood. You deserve better.”
Tony’s words struck Loki like lightning. And he should know, he’s caught a few of those growing up with Thor. “Heal yourself, please. I know you’re strong enough to do that now. Strange stitched you up, but your magic will probably do a better job”, Tony snickered. Loki sighed, but removed the bandages with Tony’s help and then healed himself. “Good, now I can do this”, he smiled and crawled into bed with Loki. Loki was about to tell him no, when Tony laid a hand on Loki’s hand. A shiver shot through Loki’s body and he winced in fear. “Shh, it’s okay, Loki. It’s okay”, Tony’s voice was calming and soft, somewhat like Frigga’s voice, but obviously huskier. Quivering in fear, Loki let Tony come near and spoon him. Tony pulled the blanket over the two of them and held the cold God in his arms. Slowly Loki relaxed in Tony’s arms, allowing touch for the first time after being tortured. “So you never had a real home?” Tony asked silenty. “Loki, all you had to do was ask. This is your home. You’ll always have a home not only in my Tower, but in my arms. Whenever you need”, he spoke gently, ghosting a kiss on Loki’s neck. “I love you, Loki. You are home.”