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Thor’s bellow could be heard throughout the great gardens, and it was no surprise to see the prince emerge shortly after, his large frame halting just past the palace doors, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared.
Tony and Fandral— who had been wandering around the gardens to await their turn in the duelling pit— started moving towards their friend, an uneasy gaze passing between them.
“Thor–“
Tony started, only to choke on the rest of his words when the prince finally came into view, Tony’s eye’s widening as he saw the top of his head.
Where silky tendrils of sunshine hair once fell… blazed a roaring blue fire crackling across his scalp.
Where Tony balked, Fandral burst out laughing, earning a fiery glower from their friend to match the ferocity of the flames burning atop his head.
“My, my, Thor, you look positively flaming!”
Fandral said, only to fall into a fit of laughter when Thor growled under his breath.
“I’m guessing… you had another fight with Loki?”
Tony asked, trying to keep the attention away from a still snickering Fandral. Thor bristled but nodded his head shortly, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“He’s out of control! No matter how many times I try to make peace with him, he refuses to even try! He’s a menace, and if mother were alive today she would be ashamed to discover what he has done with her teachings of seiðr.”
When Fandral finally got himself under control he was wiping the tears from his eyes, smacking Thor hard on the shoulder in some semblance of comfort.
“We’ve told you, Thor, there is no use in trying to get along with the little fjándi. Don’t bother thinking him a brother— instead envision him as a flea; tiny, insignificant, and easy to crush.”
He threw a smirk to Tony who returned it with an amused shake of his head.
“He’s not worth your time, friend, he’d sooner pierce you through the back than spit in your face. He’s nothing more than his namesake, just ignore the little runt and wait until you are king.”
Tony said, gaining a quick nod from Fendral who was next to say his peace, squeezing Thor’s shoulder and offering him at least a flash of a pitying smile.
“Yes, await until the day you are king and cast the scheming trickster into the void!”
Thor’s expression of smouldering agitation turned into one of horror then.
“You cannot mean that, Fandral! He is still my brother, my blood— your prince! Do not share such sentiments with me so idly, friend, I beg of you.”
Fandral was quick to laugh again, the smirk on his face as familiar as the morning sun.
“Oh, Thor, you know I speak in jest! They are just harmless words spoken to a friend in need of cheering up.”
Thor nodded but flicked his gaze behind him, eyes troubled as an unspoken thought held him. Tony cleared his throat in the sudden silence, glancing at the way one of Thor’s hands raised absently to scratch at his burning scalp, blue flames licking up his fingers as he did.
“Does it hurt? The flames?”
He asked, watching Thor suck in a slow breath before he sighed, the sound weary and tired.
“No, tis but an illusion— though, it itches…”
He grumbled, finally dropping his hand so that he could cross his arms over his broad chest.
“Thank you, my friends, you have lightened my mood.”
He finally sighed, the words not quite matching his sombre tone. Fandral clapped him heartily on the back, slinging an arm around Thor’s shoulder.
“Let us drown our sorrows, Thor. Shall we find you a great bosomed maid with a penchant for fire?”
He chuckled, this time pulling a twitch of a smile for the gloomy prince.
Tony followed them as they began to walk arm in arm, falling in step beside them as the trio made their way to the nearest tavern. They were welcomed as they usually were, mead pushed into their waiting hands and young maidens vying for their generous attentions.
Before long the night was upon them and the merriment continued long into the waiting morn. Thor had managed to find a young lass to occupy his thoughts— and his bed— and had eventually made his way out of the Tavern with a dopey smile and a scalp full of sapphire flames.
Tony and Fandral hadn’t accompanied any fine ladies to bed but instead welcomed the early morning sun with bellies full of mead to sleep off. They eventually stumbled their way out of the tavern as the light of the coming sun peaked out over the horizon, laughing into the sky and following the paved path home.
It took Tony a moment before he realised they had stopped moving, the arm that Fandral had thrown around his shoulders before, now pulling away from him.
Then he saw why.
In front of them was the youngest Prince of Asgard, a vision of chilling beauty wrapped in a rich emerald coat that fell past his ankles and dragged across the dirt— yet somehow still remained unstained.
“Well, well, what an honour this is! The prince of lies standing before my very eyes!”
Fandral bellowed with a nasty smirk, only the edge of his words slurring a little on his curling lips. Tony raised his eyebrows when Loki just scowled at them, attempting to slip past with a swift flick of his cape— only to be yanked back by Frandral’s waiting hand.
“Not so fast, princeling… I think you owe your dear brother an apology.”
Loki tried to wrench out of the man’s grip but only succeeded in tearing his cape, the rich fabric ripping as easily as a knife through warm butter.
“You brute!“
Loki snarled, his pretty face twisting into one of rage as he lifted his hands towards Fandral, ready to strike with some undoubtedly nasty spell— but Tony moved quick, his alcohol-brined brain somehow managing to allow him to fling himself on top of the prince just in time to topple him over to the ground and send the nasty spiral of green light into the sky above instead of his friend's chest.
Loki hissed as his back hit the ground hard, but before he could even retaliate from Tony’s blow, Fandral was surging forward, pulling back his leg and snapping his heavy boot into the tricker’s unguarded side.
He didn’t stop there though, managing to get in two more vicious kicks before Tony was pulling him away.
Loki was groaning on the ground, clutching at his ribs as he curled up into a ball on his side, as if expecting the attack to continue. It did not.
Before they knew it, they were running, Tony tugging his friend along frantically like a viper was hot on their tail.
“You— Fandral! He is a prince of Asgard, you—“
“He is unworthy of that title, and you know it.”
Fandral scoffed, pulling his arm free from Tony’s grip and slowing them both down to an unsteady walk. Fandral threw his head to the sky and groaned, a hand resting on his belly.
“I am too drunk to run, Stark, if I take another step then I shall release last nights feast all over your boots.”
Tony couldn’t help the bubble of laughter rising in his throat, his own stomach rebelling over the quick dash.
“I fear I will do the same.”
Tony groaned, his mind leaving his frantic thoughts of before to settle on the feeling of unease rising up his throat.
“Shall we stop in to Alva’s hut and bribe her to make us some breakfast?”
Fandral asked with a surging grin, tugging Tony forward when he returned the smile… Loki now forgotten as his thoughts filled with food and the promise of a soft bed waiting for him.
***
“You look like a half-warmed draugr’s asshole, dear friend. Did you have a good night then?”
Fandral asked, a knowing smirk twisting his lips when Thor just groaned under his breath and shovelled half his breakfast down his waiting gullet.
“I’d take that as a yes.”
Tony murmured, clinking his goblet with Thor’s, then Fandral’s, before taking a swig. More mead didn’t seem like the wisest idea after the lake’s worth they drank last night but it was Thor’s own hangover cure and it was best not to go against one's friend… and future king.
“The girl had more energy than me. Talons like a Valkyrie, I swear it. I thought she would tear my back in two by the end.”
Thor huffed, chugging the rest of is cup before he raised it for another serving, not having to wait more than the beat of a heart before a scurrying servant came by and filled it for him again, the frothing liquid splashing over the sides and dribbling over his fingertips. Thor paid it no mind.
Tony smirked, reaching over to pull off another hunk of bread before he stood up and nodded at the prince in parting.
“Are you off somewhere, my friend?”
Thor asked with a frown, a tinge of hurt in his tone. Say what you would about the future king, his great size and mirthful laugh hid a side of him that wasn’t always so easy to decipher. It was what Tony loved most about his friend, that even with his station and his great and foreboding power… he was good. Kind. He felt things more deeply than one would expect.
And that is what angered Tony the most about Loki’s treatment of him. The young princeling did his damndest to torment Thor— and Thor’s only crime was loving him more sincerely than anyone else in the kingdom.
Yet Loki didn’t care. In fact, Tony had a suspicion that that was the reason the trickster despised him so.
Before Tony could reply, Fandral answered for him.
“Pay him no mind, Thor, our great scholarly comrade always disappears this time of the week to work on his secret— what do you call them, Tony? Inventions was it?”
Fandral asked, lazily raising his goblet to his lips and taking a generous swig. Tony chuckled, shaking his head for Thor’s benefit who was frowning at him in confusion.
“I am no scholar, Fandral—and tis no secret, I am just getting some air and working on a few ideas.”
He answered with a shrug, sighing when the both of them gave him a look that indicated he would be kept there under the guise of incessant questions if he didn’t leave now.
“It’s nothing very interesting but I shall speak with you about it in the morn’.”
“Tis but the break of morn’ now!”
Thor exclaimed, but didn’t say anything more to stop him. Tony waved to his friends as he headed off, his smile slowly disappearing from his face the further he walked.
Inventions. Yes.
Except there were no inventions, hadn’t been for a long, long time. It wasn’t like there was a reason the tug of his muse had slowly faded from his mind, leaving his thoughts empty and entirely useless… there was just no catalyst anymore, it was like they had all been used up.
He used to be inundated with ideas, inspiration striking him like a well-aimed dagger, filling his mind with pictures of things he could build, things he could create.
Not anymore.
No, now he just wandered the ever-reaching forests in hope of some sight that would flare up those same pictures again, pictures that would fill his mind and flow into his hands until he was crafting something that brought wonder to those around him.
Still, he wandered.
He had lost hope long ago, but these walks were the only thing that kept him sane, just the mere thought that maybe he would see something that would be the spark.
His steps faulted when he suddenly looked up at his surroundings, realising his feet had led him to a place he hadn’t yet visited.
It was odd, Tony had walked the surrounding forests a thousand times or more… but this place… he knew he hadn’t set eyes on it before.
And… it was beautiful.
The fauna surrounding him was alive and lush, the colour of the greenery the finest shade of emerald he had ever beheld, and before him— rushing soothingly just a mere two steps from where he stood— was a lake, the waters reflecting the dawning sun in little twinkling diamonds.
Tony stepped forward, a sense of calm washing over him as he leant down by the water’s edge and glided his fingers through it with a widening smile.
Just beautiful.
But before he could contemplate disrobing and diving into the cool azure before him, he heard a strangled cry, like a wounded animal, like a—
No, that was exactly what it was— just a little past the water's edge and through a small clearing of trees was a bright red ball of fluff struggling and whimpering to pull itself through the crack of a fallen log. It seemed to have tried to squeeze inside the small opening only for it to somehow wedge itself in too tight to get back out again.
Tony paused, his mouth pressing into a thin line as he watched the animal. He didn’t want to continue to make the poor thing struggle… but he also knew that some animal’s hearts could stop at the slightest glimpse of a passing Asgardian.
Barely another minute passed before he threw caution to the wind and carefully crept forward, being vigilant not to spook the poor thing. It was too far gone in its distress to notice Tony’s advance, and by the time he was gently grasping onto its body and pulling it free, the creature had turned stock still.
For a brief moment, Tony’s heart seized with the thought that he had truly just given it a heart attack…
Until it bit him.
Tony yelped, schooling his initial impulse to drop the thing that had taken a small chunk out of his palm so that he could instead swiftly lower it to the ground and back away.
“A thank you would have been nice.”
He scowled after it, inspecting his hand before he looked back to where he had let it go… only to find that the creature stood stock still, staring at him.
Tony’s eyebrow quirked when he finally got a better look at it, a small smile creeping onto his lips when he recognised the creature for what it was. A fox.
“Well, hello there, aren’t you pretty...”
And it was pretty— beautiful even, in a way that rare creatures often were.
Foxes were not known to these parts, but Asgard had dealt with its own troubles of inter-species trading. Such a creature looked as if it belonged to royalty.
Maybe it did, too.
Odin had the strangest tastes for rare creatures… all locked up in their gilded cages and brought out only on special occasions for his subjects to gawk at.
A shiver ran down Tony’s spine as he remembered the last party he had attended with king Odin as the host, remembered how he and a few other guests were led through a room lined with tiny cages of curious animals from all over the nine realms. Odin’s pride and possession… because they were, just his pretty possessions.
If Tony thought about it, the animal did seem oddly familiar… maybe he had seen it before— in those very cages perhaps…
Tony pulled away from his thoughts when he saw the fox start to back away, large dark eyes watching him carefully as he moved.
“Are you one of Odin’s little creatures?”
Tony asked, not really sure why he was bothering to engage with the animal. He was surprised though when he saw it pause, its head tilting just a fraction to the side, almost immeasurably so.
“Ah… so you are? My condolences.”
The creature continued to watch him, those big eyes holding him captive in their gaze. When it finally started to back away again, something about its jolted gate caught Tony’s eyes, and before he could even stop himself he was speaking again.
“Are you hurt, little one?”
Yes, there it was, a slight limp—the front paw— it wasn’t putting weight on that leg. And it wasn’t only that… because that’s when Tony caught sight of his own hands.
He stumbled back when he saw the blood on his fingers, sucking in a gasp as his eyes darted from his upturned hands to the fox watching him warily.
“Oh, Norns… you’re really hurt.”
When he finally gathered himself, he went to step forward, only to then pause when the creature let out a strange little hiss, like a growl— a warning.
“I won’t hurt you, you have my word, I just… would you let me inspect you? I want to make sure you’re not too deeply wounded.”
He let those words sit for a moment before he tried to step forward again. The creature, though, didn’t seem to believe his promise.
Its fur rose up in hackles as it hissed at him again, limping back a step away from Tony. It was only when there was a rustle in the trees behind them did the fox’s attention become diverted. Tony took that chance, quickly darting forward while it was distracted to swoop up the startled animal and wrap it gingerly with the bottom of his chemise.
“It’s ok, I won’t hurt you, shh, I got you.”
The creature continued to struggle, letting out soft little huffs of irritation that Tony would have found adorable if he wasn’t currently staring at long bloody lines of slashes in the animal's skin, hidden by the thick coat of fur.
“Did someone do this to you? Did someone hurt you?”
Tony asked, his voice shaky as he gently inspected the cuts.
They were everywhere. Varying sizes and depths, littered all across its body. Tony felt sick.
The fox seemed to have forgotten its struggle at Tony’s words, the only thing moving now was it’s chest with every heavy pant. Tony decided to use the brief reprieve, walking them both over to the lake's edge and carefully sitting cross-legged on the ground.
“I just need to wash these… I’ll be careful.”
The warning didn’t seem to be needed, the fox stayed taut in his arms as he carefully washed away the blood and grim, being extra cautious not to knock the injured paw. When he was done, he dried the creature as well as he could with the tail end of his shirt before petting it with a weary sigh.
“I want to know who did this to you, little one…. I want to wring their neck. I cannot fathom such cruelty.”
The fox just huffed in his arms, resigned to the fact that Tony wasn’t letting him go.
“I’m going to have to take you back with me. I know it’s scary but we have healers that can help, I promise no harm will come to you— hey! Wait!”
The fox had jumped from his arms before he could stop it, the animal’s little body darting through the woods and disappearing into the brush without another word.
“Come back! I just– I’m trying to help you!”
He called out, pushing himself to his feet as he looked out into the distance.
“I’m coming back tomorrow, and the next day— and the next! I swear it!”
And that was exactly what Tony did.
Over the course of a week he had managed to travel back to the hidden oasis again, each time calling out for the little fox that refused to come.
It wasn’t until the sixth day that the creature finally showed its face.
At first, it just stood by a tiny clearing in the trees, watching Tony wearily as he called out to him, before finally disappearing back into the brush. On the seventh day, it was back, leaving again before Tony could reach it… but on the eighth, on the eighth day, the fox was there before Tony, almost as if it had been waiting for him.
It went on like that, the two watching each other, eyes meeting over the stretching distance… until that distance became a little shorter and shorter each time.
Tony didn’t know exactly how long it had taken before they got to the point where they could sit side by side, but it happened. Every day Tony would make his way to that clearing, and every day the little fox was there waiting for him.
Eventually, though… Tony realised that the fox would turn up with some new wound— cuts, injured limbs, and on one particular day, a swollen-shut eye.
His heart broke a little more as he cleaned the creature up as best he could and held it in his arms until the sun had started to set… only for the fox to disappear once again.
He had tried to bring it back with him at first, tried to capture the creature so that he could save it from whatever or whoever was harming it, but every time he tried, the fox managed to wrestle out of his hold and run off. Worse yet, the creature wouldn’t then visit him the next day… as if punishing him for even trying.
So… Tony stopped trying.
It was strange, how comfortable he had become with the animal, how much he had come to enjoy the auburn soft fur beneath his fingers, the way those big dark eyes watched him knowingly as he chatted away about his life.
It seemed that the fox had come to crave his company as much as he did it, crawling onto his lap and nuzzling his hands at every leisurely pat.
In some strange way… they had become friends.
As Tony made his way to the clearing one morning— the familiar sound of trickling water up ahead guiding him as he weaved through the woods— something felt different.
There was a strange and sombre quiet that he couldn’t quite shake and every step he took left him with a rising trepidation.
And then he saw the little fox.
Tony’s breath came quick as he ran forward, his eyes wide in alarm when he realised it wasn’t sitting there waiting for him like usual… it was sprawled across the ground, tiny chest rising quickly in heavy pants.
He cradled the creature in his arms as he called to it, feeling sticky blood on his hands where he had stroked his shaking fingers through its fur.
It whined, like it was trying to say something to him… and then…
—It happened so quickly that Tony hardly had time to gasp before the fox in his arms grew, its fur shimmering like the sun on the ocean before bleeding out into a bright emerald shock of bursting light—
Tony sucked in a breath, his eyes widening in horror as before him, in his arms and strewn across his lap was…
Loki.
Tony’s eyes grazed down the prince’s naked form, his breath catching when across the expanse of pretty porcelain skin he saw a cruel map of bruises and cuts, blood marking him from chest to navel.
Tony looked to his face, stomach sinking at the wetness on Loki’s cheeks… the bruising circling his neck…
“Little fox.”
Tony choked out, his thumb brushing away a fallen tear from the prince’s face, pulling him closer in his arms as his mind played out every moment, every interaction.
This was Loki, this— he… the fox, the little friend he had made with the dark eyes and quiet resolve… all along…
Loki was still unconscious, still panting heavily in anguish as he whimpered softly in his sleep and nuzzled closer into the crook of Tony’s elbow.
Tony’s heart stuttered, his mind reeling at the situation he had found himself in. He couldn’t even get his thoughts together before the prince stirred in his arms.
Another broken whimper, so unlike the cruel and mischievous little brother of his closest friend…
This was Loki.
This was the dark prince who had tormented Thor throughout the years, who had taken his love and spat it back in his face, thwarted every friendly advance from those around him. This was—
“Tony…”
Loki gasped, an almost high pitched whine before it was cut off by another sound— a guttural cry that burst from the young god’s throat as reality set in, as he saw whose arms he was in.
His eyes widened in horror, his breath hitching painfully before he yanked himself out of Tony’s embrace, trying to drag his beaten body across the mossy forest floor.
”Loki-“
Tony started, not sure what to even say, what is to do. Loki cut him off before he had the chance to find out.
”D-Don’t look at me!”
He cried out, tears rolling from his frightened eyes as he scrambled back, his naked skin caked in wet dirt and blood, looking like a wounded creature of the wild.
Tony supposed he was.
”I’m not going to hurt you, Loki...”
Tony whispered, his voice coming out breathy and unsure. He didn’t even know what he was doing, didn’t know why the fear in the younger man’s eyes made something in his stomach twist.
This was Loki.
”Stay b-back! Don’t— just leave me! Go!”
Tony moved forward, only pausing when he saw the way Loki flinched back away from him, as if expecting to be struck.
Why did that single action cut so deeply?
“You need help, Loki, let me help you—”
Loki threw his head back, letting out a tortured and humourless sound that was some poor imitation of a laugh.
”You can’t help me, you fool! I don’t need your help— I can heal myself, I can—“
Tony moved another step closer, not letting himself reach out and touch the fallen prince as his fingers so itched to do so… to pull him to his arms and absorb all the hurt, all the pain, to clean him, care for him… as he had done the little fox.
His friend.
Loki… was his friend.
”If you could heal yourself… you would have done so already, wouldn’t you?”
The softly spoken question had taken the prince off guard, and with that, Loki’s face crumpled into a mask of misery and hopelessness. His bottom lip trembled as he dropped his head and sobbed into his hands.
He looked so fragile, so…
“Loki…”
Tony started, wincing at the way Loki jolted at the sound of his own name on Tony’s lips.
Tony moved forward slowly, shortening the distance between them one step at a time until he was standing before him.
Loki wasn’t looking at him, as if too afraid to even hold Tony’s gaze… maybe because he was worried what he would find there.
”Loki…”
Tony whispered again, kneeling down and reaching out to touch his tear-streaked face.
“…Little fox.”
Loki sobbed harder at that, his body shaking under the strain of his own misery… and Tony let him, pulling the weeping prince into his arms and gently trailing his fingers through the long midnight tresses of knotted hair.
The utter despair that rose sharply up Tony’s throat was the last indication he needed.
Loki was his friend.
Something had shifted inside of him, the coiling distaste he had once had for the young prince now wholly and immortally changed.
Because… this was his little fox, this was the fiery creature that had somehow found comfort in his touch, that had allowed him to bath him and care for him… the little fox that had diligently stayed by his side without a care or worry.
It was only then that Tony realised that Loki was saying something, words chewed up and spit out in a distorted mess through the god’s own whimpers. Tony leant down, pressing his ear close to Loki’s hidden face.
”…please don’t… hate… me…”
The same four words moaned over and over again as he cried like a child in Tony’s arms.
“Tell me who did this. Please, Loki, would you do that? Can you tell me who’s hurting you?”
Loki just shuddered in his arms and Tony held him tighter, whispering words of encouragement in his ear.
”…one of Odin’s little creatures.”
Loki finally murmured, his voice hushed and strained. Tony stilled, his own words repeated back to him pulling him back to the start, to their first meeting.
”Oh, Norns… Loki.”
Tony gasped out in horror, the image of his king flitting through his mind along with the wounds covering Loki’s pale flesh… the wounds Tony had tended to on the little fox…
Things started to slowly merge together, pieces of a puzzle Tony didn’t even realise existed…
The way Loki was with his family— the change in his behaviour after the Queen had passed on… The reason he had slunk away into the darkness and kept himself from the rest of the kingdom…
It all made sense.
Tony thought of Thor then, and his heart stuttered painfully.
”Thor… does he… is he…”
Tony couldn’t finish, couldn’t form the question he so desperately didn’t want to ask.
Has Thor hurt you too?
Another shudder passed through the young prince’s body but it was only a short beat before he answered.
”No… not Thor, just...”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to, Tony knew what he was trying to say.
Just Odin. Just his father.
The coiling sickness that was slithering in Tony’s gut gave way to a burning anger as Loki’s words finally nestled their way into his mind.
Loki had been tortured, for years— right under their noses… and not only that, he had been ostracised for it too.
It didn’t take a genius to understand that Loki had been acting out with his brother, had been tormenting the closest thing to his father that he could find.
Thor’s love for him probably made it all the worse.
Another thought came to Tony then, one that released a strangled sound from his own throat.
Tony had hurt him too.
He had watched Fandrall send kick after kick into the prince’s unguarded ribs… and then ran. They left him on the ground, injured and alone.
”I won’t let him hurt you again, you hear me? This ends now.”
Tony said, his voice shaky yet somehow clear for the first time that night… because he knew that he would never let another living soul harm Loki for the rest of his life.
No one would ever hurt him again.
Not even Tony.
***
“…just a moment longer…”
Loki mumbled, still half asleep as he pulled Tony closer to his body, long pale legs draping over him as he did.
Tony grunted, shifting his form so that his pelvis angled away from the prince’s tangled limbs.
”The sun has almost risen, Loki, I must leave before your brother walks in and finds us like this.”
Tony chucked, the trepidation in his voice covering the flash of desire burning in his gut.
He had slept in Loki’s chambers for the past month now, sneaking in at the prince’s request in the middle of the night, only to slink off before dawn.
It was a dangerous game they were playing, and it was getting harder and harder for Tony to hide his own body’s reaction to having the devilish beauty sprawled across his chest at every slumber.
He couldn’t exactly remember how it started, or who had even made the initial suggestion, but it was only supposed to have been one night. Just a temporary happening in order to stave off one of Loki’s incessant nightmares.
The nightmares that had started the day they had told Thor what Odin had been doing to Loki…
Which was the same day that Odin subsequently… disappeared.
The kingdom had been told of Odin’s death, and they had held a funeral, commemorating their late king’s life… but of course… there was no body to burn in the floating pyre on the water.
No, that had been just an illusion Loki had crafted so that Asgard had a king to mourn.
In reality, Odin had quickly vanished after Thor went to confront him over the map of scars and bruises adorning his little brother’s frail frame. He just disappeared into the night… and so, from then on, Loki hadn’t had a peaceful night’s sleep since— his mind conjuring living horrors of the vengeful king coming back to finish the job.
Tony would never let that happen.
Loki’s seiðr had slowly begun to come back to him as time marched on, the reason for which— as he had explained to Tony— was because it meant Odin was no longer in this particular realm anymore.
Tony had asked Loki what exactly his father had done to stifle his seiðr, but he never really got much of an answer back, just a vague smattering of words that went something like ‘it was a binding curse, nothing more, it should fade with time now that he’s gone.’
Those words— as nonchalant as the young prince had tried to make them— sent a chill up Tony’s spine.
A binding curse…
To think that the king was not satisfied enough just to torture his son… he also had to go and steal the one thing that made Loki who he was.
Loki had told him that he had actually never lost access to his seiðr, but instead, it was actually just entirely at the mercy of his father— Odin had taken it and kept it in his own body for Loki to use at his will. If the king commanded the prince to use it for something in particular, Loki would have no choice but to follow that command.
Of course, it also worked in reverse. If Odin told Loki not to use his seiðr for something… such as to heal himself… then, Loki was at his father’s mercy.
It was a cruel and unusual punishment and Tony couldn’t forgive himself for not seeing it sooner.
For being a part of it.
”Will you be attending your brother's coronation?”
Tony asked, his hands already absently running up and down Loki’s back, a habit that had been formed during a particularly restless night and one he couldn’t seem to give up. It seemed to be the only thing that could soothe Loki to sleep after one of his nightmares.
The bad dreams hadn’t entirely faded now, but they were becoming few and far between the longer Tony stayed with him.
”Why would I? I have no desire to watch that buffoon get slobbered all over by a gaggle of gawking village people. His head is already big enough as it is without having everyone calling him king.”
Loki scowled, burying his face in Tony’s chest as he sighed.
“You need to give your brother a break, little fox, he loves you.”
Loki shivered at the nickname that had now become oddly commonplace on Tony’s lips.
”You’re always on his side.”
Loki muttered under his breath, making Tony chuckle.
”I’m not on anyone’s side, Loki, he’s my friend.”
Loki tightened his arms around Tony middle before he drew in a slow breath.
”And… what am I?”
He asked softly, so softly Tony almost missed it entirely.
Tony paused, swallowing noisily as he thought on what to say to that.
”Well, you are my friend also, of course.”
”Do friends fall asleep in each other’s arms?”
Tony stilled, his mouth going dry as Loki nuzzled into his neck and softly breathed him in.
”Loki…”
Tony trailed off, not sure what to say.
As it turned out, he didn’t have to say anything, because right at that moment Loki shifted slightly… and then his hand was on his cock.
”I may be inexperienced, Tony, but I know a hard cock when I see one… when I feel one.”
Loki was moving before Tony could even spit out one of the jumble of excuses poised on his dry lips.
”At first I thought it was a natural reaction, a bodily occurrence that could be commonplace in the mornings… but I noticed that it only really happened when I was touching you.”
“Loki—“
Tony chocked out, before his mouth twisted into a groan, feeling Loki’s hands squeeze his erection with just enough force to make his eyes roll back in pleasure.
”You never asked me why I shifted into another form after my father was finished with me.”
Loki started, the words murmured and short, as if he was trying to keep himself from letting any emotion slip into his voice.
”I think I already told you… but the king never let me heal myself after, I think the old bastard just liked to see his handy-work on display. He liked scars.”
Loki paused, dropping his forehead to Tony’s shoulder for a brief moment before he continued.
“I found out eventually that if I shifted… if I changed into another form, the pain would change. It didn't necessarily make it better… but it was different. Easier.”
Loki breathed in a shaky breath, then his body moved. Inch by inch, skin to skin, Loki dragged his way on top of Tony, pressing their foreheads together so that they were breathing one another’s air.
”Then you came along… and you made it better. You made it not hurt so much.”
Loki slowly, so slowly, pressed his mouth to Tony’s— just a gentle kiss, a tender joining of lips against lips.
”You made me feel safe.”
Loki whispered.
The soft kiss morphed into something new, like the river melding into the sea, two forces uniting in a heated exchange of passion.
Tony pulled away, puffing hard as he peered into Loki’s emerald eyes.
”Is this what you really want? Truly?”
The question wasn’t gentle, wasn’t benign. Tony had to know— had to make sure that the prince wasn’t doing this because he had recognised Tony’s own desires towards him.
”I am not broken, Tony, I know what I want.”
Loki scowled, breathing heavy, raven hair falling into his face as he tried to flick it away.
”So… what do you want?”
Tony dared to ask, his heart pounding a million miles an hour when a twitch of a smile curled the prince’s surly scowl.
”You.”
That word broke any hesitation between them, and before long they were both naked, their bodies tangled together with Tony’s fingers breaching Loki’s tight hole, kissing him madly as Loki bucked wantonly in his hand.
The prince whimpered, his fingers winding into Tony’s hair tightly as he was worked open.
”I’m ready, Tony, I— agh!”
He cried out, a third finger stretching him wide and grazing against that hidden spot inside of him that made him scream.
Tony didn’t enter him until they were both panting whining balls of need, too wrapped up in desire to even remember their own names.
When he finally thrust forward—pressed on by Loki’s legs now wrapped tightly around his waist— Tony didn’t think he had ever felt anything this wonderful in his entire life. To have Loki, his Loki, under him and around him, moaning into his ear, begging him to continue.
When he was finally seated, he held off for a long beat before he pulled back again, only to thrust back inside him with a low groan. He felt too good, too right, like he had just died and gone to Valhalla itself.
Loki keened, nails raking down his back as he was fucked deep and hard into the mattress, claimed in the very sheets they had slept in together every night.
Tony pounded into him, his thick cock carving a place inside of the prince to call his own, as Loki had done to him, inside of his own heart.
No more words were spoken, just moans and grunts that came together in a chorus of sex and desire, until they had both came to their ends, crying out each other’s names.
There was only a brief reprieve before they were at it again— this time slower, gentle, two bodies joining as one in a sweet and slow burn, like an ember… never to be extinguished
”Tony…”
Loki moaned, angling his hips to meet every heavy thrust, feeling how stretched and full he was… and how much he never wanted it to end.
”You are… so… beautiful.”
Tony groaned between each thrust, before he took Loki in a long and heated kiss, knowing that nothing could ever be better than this, nothing could ever feel so right.
Tony came first this time, shoving his cock as deep as could before he spilled into him, marking him with his seed a second time that morning… and definitely not the last.
That seemed to bring about Loki’s own end, and soon he was crying out into Tony’s neck, clenching almost painfully against his slowly deflating cock.
They laid there after that, a sweaty panting mess of bodies cuddled together in post-coital bliss.
Tony pressed a kiss to Loki’s cheek before he pressed another to his forehead, his thumb coming up to brush gently against his bottom lip. Loki was the first to speak.
“Thank you… for saving me. For being there.”
There was a softness in Loki’s voice that was so incredibly rare that it made Tony’s heart leap, and he couldn’t help but take the pretty prince into one last needy kiss.
When he finally pulled back, he butterflied playful kisses all across Loki’s cheeks and forehead, before moving down over his neck.
”Thank you for letting me be yours.”
Tony murmured, pulling Loki impossibly closer.
Thank you, little fox.