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Loki had … always suspected that his life wasn’t meant to be long. Not since he had learnt of the monster living under his skin. Not after all he’s done – voluntarily or not. He hadn’t been meant for a happy end. He was just a means to get the story forward and find something akin to peace and redemption in the short time he had left.
As soon as Loki had arrived in the afterlife, he had created a mirror from his seiðr which enabled him to watch the living. He had hoped that Thor would understand his words and do something with them, that he wouldn’t let Loki’s sacrifice go to waste – but nothing of that sort happened.
Instead Loki had to watch his brother waste away, watched him squandering time with drinking and gaming of all things and Loki? He bit on his tongue and didn’t let a single curse word slip his lips that Thor chucked away a chance of making things better, that he didn’t seem to appreciate Loki’s sacrifice. He wouldn’t lay his life at the feet of anybody; Loki had never particularly been fond of life in the last few years but it still had been his life.
He watched how his Hawk went on a murder spree, watched as the Widow tried to keep the Avengers together. He studied Bruce’s progress from being two separate beings in one body to be one being in one body and it was horrifying but at the same time, also beautiful.
Never would Loki admit to having a favourite to watch. Favouritism implied that Loki was no better than Odin – someone Loki had only met once so far since he died because he had no desire to meet that man, not anymore, not after all that had happened. But Stark was something else, something different. He had been hurt and despite knowing better, he still wore his heart on his sleeve and tried to make the world better - while the world went down in chaos and sank into a state of anarchy. There was a surge of affection flaring up in Loki when he saw Stark ticking off at Rogers and thought ‘Yes!’ with an intensity that scared Loki afterwards when he thought about it.
Stark wasn’t a loner unlike Loki, he had his family and his robots, his AI, and his workshop; he just didn’t stop being Tony Stark even when he put Iron Man officially to rest. The pain and fatigue on the Avenger’s face, they were painted deep in the wrinkles of his skin, the process of aging setting in and silver streaks were blooming in his hair and a new sort of peace seemed to take hold of the man while he created a new armour for his partner and brought his child to bed most evenings, read her books. He was adorable and still so snarky, even when he talked with his daughter, but the snark was softened by the smile playing on his lips.
Loki was often awed by him. He regretted the circumstances under which Stark and he had met because it could’ve been a different story they could tell now. But circumstances were against them as was fate.
But five years weren’t enough time and if Loki possessed the ability, he would give the man just so much more time he needed to see his kid grow up, to scare possible suitors of her’s away and make his friends smile. He hadn’t thought there was a possibility that the heroes would die.
It was wrong, it was so, so wrong and not –
It wasn’t what they deserved.
The Widow arrived first, her eyes alight with a new fire and she silently came to a stop next to Loki and joined him watching the Avengers continue with their quest of undoing the snap.
Loki wanted to tell her, ‘thank you for helping to save the universe’ because he felt like she needed to hear it and if everybody avenged everybody, he sure could express his sincere gratitude. But when he opened his mouth, she shook her head with a smile and Loki hoped he interpreted her gesture right, that she understood what he had meant to tell her, but she was a spy, someone who was supposed to have mastered the art of reading people who didn’t say anything. He found an odd assurance in that.
When he saw Thanos enter the battle, shivers ran down his spine. The purple beast, his master, his murderer, his reason for why he still had phantom pains even in death. He could feel the leather cutting in his back, ripping it open and his blood was dripping everywhere; he saw six fingers in blue who directed him where to go, the voice in his head, someone who followed Thanos’ words. Occasionally he felt the licking of flames on his face, melting his skin off his face until there was nothing but raw flesh layers left, sometimes not even that and it was only bones and it was horrifying.
Looking at his tormentor from the afterlife wasn’t easy, it was pure horror and disgust. There was a bitter sting of betrayal and fear and he was here while Thanos was there, fighting the heroes.
And like all those years ago Loki found himself silently cheering the Avengers on – despite his lack of interest in many of them but his eyes flitted back and forth between Thor and Stark.
The battle was just a mess, chaos, nothing more and there were portals and even more people than before, and Loki found hope. Finally, he would get his revenge and someone would snuff Thanos and he found himself getting lighter, a vicious smile pulling on his lips.
But it died quicker than his neck had gotten snapped when he saw Stark taking the gauntlet. He was a mortal, a Midgardian and if it wasn’t the stones that would kill him with their energy cursing through his body, then the gamma radiation would. It was as easy as that and he wanted to slap Stark for raising his arm, taunting Thanos one last time – and it scared Loki how final it was because he was a realist, he knew the odds were bad and that life wasn’t fair.
He knew that better than anyone else and he knew that Stark knew what he was doing because unlike others he had the brains to do some simple math, some easy calculations and he for sure knew better than to speculate whether he would survive the snapping and yet –
He did it anyway, with an impossible strong and determined, “I am Iron Man,” and then there was just a flash of colour, so pure and overwhelming that Loki could make the colours out only barely, his eyes twitching and squinting and he could swear he felt the power of the snap up to here. It was power and pure strength and the stubborn desire to win, to have Thanos and his allies to be gone so that his family was safe.
And then, it was over. Almost.
It had never occurred to him that Stark wouldn’t get the happy ending he deserved. By the Norns, this wasn’t fair play, it was cruel to see him open his eyes again, knowing he would not survive, had his other kid running towards him, already tears in his eyes and Loki could see the moment Rescue knew what Stark needed to hear; she really was his rescue at that moment, giving him the chance of going in peace, knowing that he had done what he could to give his family the chance to live in a better future, that there won’t be a threat anymore for them.
Then he saw the Hawk falling to his knees. It was like all strings had been cut and he was the one furthest away and he saw and understood as first what was going on.
In Stuttgart Loki had demanded that the people kneeled to him, offered him their submission and they had gone down on their knees, their faces painted in fear, they had been cowed by horror and distress, perhaps had hoped that by kneeling he would spare them.
After he had so thoroughly made sure that their protectors in cars wouldn’t even come close to them, trapped in their vehicles. He had caroused when they had funked from him, had been delighted in standing above them, being a literal god among so many mortals when he finally got air again and the Midgardians were where they belonged – on the ground, kneeling to him.
He had been such a caricature. The whole act had been one.
This was what kneeling was supposed to be about, getting down voluntarily to honour a person, to show them your gratitude, you acknowledged their deed and bowed to their greatness. Stark deserved it. He deserved this so much and Loki hoped for him that he saw it from the corner of his eyes when Rescue bent forward and kissed his cheek, bidding him farewell.
They were all kneeling to Stark. And he had goosebumps on his skin and swallowed salt as he realised what Stark had done for them all. Thanos was dust, as were his allies, they were dust and gone, never to see the light of the day again, vanished from the surface of all life.
And that from a man who had been titled as selfish, egotistical, who had been accused of putting himself above others –
And the Avengers were still kneeling to the now-dead Stark, his eyes staring emptily into the battlefield that was now free of enemies and the light of his arc reactor went out like a candle being blown softly and the smoke wandering up in the sky; like stardust and joining the greater vast of space and spreading his legacy with the soft blue glow in the dark sky, the fires on Midgard shining bright.
Loki was selfish, he was selfish and he was thankful for it being over, that his abuser was finally being done and over with, hopefully this one time for once and for all and he could feel hot tears cooking in his eyes.
He was no idiot, he knew what being dead meant, he experienced it with every unnecessarily breath he took since arriving here but he still felt a sting of disappointment for Stark, for his family when Tony Stark materialised in a soft blue glow not far away from him.
There was still blood running down the right side of his face, red and black from the battle but there seemed something to be lighter around his shoulders, his face less strained and fewer crinkles on his skin. He looked good, rested even. The only good side-effect that came with being dead.
The Widow sprinted up towards him, her face shining with spilt tears and she threw her arms around Stark, holding him tight and tighter against him, whispering soft words in his ears so Loki couldn’t catch them. He didn’t want to. Those words weren’t meant for him.
But he slowly stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Stark.
“Loki,” Stark said slowly when he saw him. There was no anger in his voice, just idle curiosity and it took Loki by surprise.
He had expected fury, to be honest. For having brought Thanos first to Midgard all those years ago even when it had been more directing his gaze towards the blue planet with those crazy and unhinged mortals who enjoyed their life to the fullest, never knew when to stop or give up; like the man in Stuttgart who had stood up to him and refused to kneel. Had refused to give Loki what he hadn’t deserved because there hadn’t anything which made Loki worthy of being shown such honour.
No, there was only one person who deserved this high praise and this person stood right in front of him.
He had never thought of kneeling to Odin, simply because he didn’t deserve it and because Loki had never thought of that – Thor had kneeled only once to Odin and that had been at his first attempt of a coronation. And otherwise there had never been a feeling to it, never a desire that made Loki want to do it either –
But here, now?
It was with the first soft and gentle smile that Loki felt in years as Loki went down on one knee, slowly and his eyes set on Tony Stark. He couldn’t trust his famed silvertongue right now, not when he was overwhelmed by so many emotions, he couldn’t even name them all because they were too many.
But the one emotion he could name was rightness. It surged through him in strong waves as his right knee hit the soft green ground, his green cape floating around him until it settled behind him, and he put his right fist over his heart like it was done on Asgard when you paid someone your respect and breathed out.
Tony Stark’s eyes widened dramatically: in shock, in awe, Loki couldn’t say. Only that he saw him looking at him strangely and a new curiosity in Tony’s eyes and Loki just wanted him to understand how he felt. The gratitude he held for Tony and his sacrifice, that he had given himself up – had renounced his right at having a future with a family that loved him dearly just so they all were safe. Loki understood that desire, being here because of the same desire.
Perhaps Tony was selfish in some ways, was a stubborn man who didn’t know when it was better to shut his mouth and not to insult a god, was graced with more snark and sass than was healthy but he had a sound enough mind to combine it with an only slightly skewed moral compass to be better than all of them combined. And Loki would finally get to sleep even when he thought he could do that and the warm tears he had kept in all those years, this time he shed them because Tony deserved them.
And Loki mourned what Tony Stark could have had, celebrated him for what he had done despite having had the opportunity not to do it and give the gauntlet to someone else –
This time Loki didn’t mind being on his knees. He wasn’t forced to do it by the insistent snarling voice of The Other, not by the threatening presence of the Black Order he had never belonged to because he was nothing more than a slave, found and shredding to pieces who had only wanted to survive and doing this was freeing, it purged the bad and tainted memory away.
And with this, he found his tongue again, swallowed dryly around the wild emotions coursing through him.
“Tony Stark,” he said and brown eyes went even wider when there was no hint of malice in Loki’s voice, only gratitude and honesty bleeding through it, “I cannot thank you enough for what you have done.”
He bowed his head lightly and he still looked at Tony, his jaw slackening in shock because he for sure hadn’t expected this when he had come here, hadn’t he?
“There is nothing in the Nine Realms and beyond what could compare to your sacrifice,” he continued, “and I don’t have any influence left on your world, there is nothing my seiðr can do to bring you back to your family even when you would deserve it the most of them all. I am sorry for that.” And he meant it, every word he spoke because if Thor had been his hero and the person he had been looking up to all those years even when his mind had been tainted with anger and fury, with the desire to hurt, maim, Loki knew that out of all heroes, Tony Stark was for sure the greatest of them all.
“But despite what it cost you, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for doing it anyway.”
“Loki,” Tony mumbled and it seemed as if it was him now who couldn’t form words anymore because his mouth kept working and formed words silently that Loki couldn’t understand, not even with the gift of Allspeak or his ability to do lip reading because Tony Stark was overwhelmed, in shock and did not understand what was happening here.
And while he tried to figure out what he wanted to tell Loki, Loki kept kneeling in the grass, the trees around them softly rustling through the now red and golden leaves that seemed to wish to honour Tony too with their chosen colours.
“Thank you,” Tony eventually chose to say, his voice careful and a smile tugging on his lips, framed by the goatee that had always stuck with the man. “But please, stop kneeling.” He chuckled nervously. “I didn’t think I would ever say that but I think my ego is either going to inflate by having a god kneel to me or I’ll have to pinch myself that this is true because somehow I don’t think that it is.”
“It is real,” Loki voiced but rose slowly to his feet again, his cape swishing behind him.
“I know.” Tony shrugged. “Doesn’t feel like it is though. And I think I need to go somewhere and have a shower, I stink.”
Loki tilted his head. “Can I offer you my home? There is not only one shower and I would have my gra-“
“Don’t,” Tony mumbled. “Don’t be so nice and so different because you’re all dark and edgy in my mind, don’t make me like you.”
“I would try to put off being an ass to you for as long as I can,” Loki said with a lopsided smile. He knew himself, he knew that he wasn’t the nicest person to be around due to the circumstances he had been raised in and the things he had been taught by violence and a soft, loving voice that had tried to manipulate him too.
“But I am serious about the offer. And I have coffee,” Loki added, almost as in afterthought.
“I thought I was the one owing you a drink.” Tony grinned at him.
“Maybe another time.”
Tony considered him for a moment. “All right. Lead the way, Reindeer Games.”
Loki smiled and pointed at Tony to follow him and at the Widow too.
He wouldn’t leave her behind, even when her eyes were glued to him thoughtfully.
They had avenged the world, they had done what nobody else could have done or wanted to do and Loki would show them his gratitude, feeling a new wave of hope and determination surging through him.
Not when he finally had the chance to get better acquainted with Tony Stark and could keep him company until his family would arrive – what hopefully would not be the case for many more decades. Because Loki’s heart was finally feeling light again and it was beating fast and quick, too quick for it to be considered alright in these circumstances.
But Loki would wait and see what would come from this – even when it was only friendship and this was already so much more than he thought he’d ever get, then he would be okay with that.
“What’s being dead like?” Tony asked him.
“Interesting,” Loki said with a small laugh.
“So it’s not boring?”
“No,” Loki said and thought about all those years he had used to watch over his brother and his Avenger, keeping up with what was happening in their lives and all the time between where he had run around and caused mischief, “it never is.”