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Thor always wore his arms bare. Loki always wore long sleeves. It was just another thing about Loki marking him as different. Ice Prince, cold, distant, wrong. And none of the people saying it knew just how right they were.
He was wrong.
Every Asgardian had a soul mark with the name of their soulmate on their wrist. The script illegible to others until the bond was accepted and solidified, but there. No one could read Thor's words until he had gone to Midgard and returned with Jane Foster, a brilliant scientist and apparently a warrior, despite her frail statue. Loki hated the delicate script on Thor's wrist all the more now that he could read it, and loathed Jane for the runes spelling out Thor’s name on hers.
Loki's own wrists were bare.
No one had empty wrists. Even if one’s soulmate hadn't been born yet, the older party always sported a name. Every realm, every planet, hell, even Jotnar had soulmates. Only Loki didn't. In a world where even monsters had someone to love them... what did that make him?
***
Tony was the luckiest man in Asgard... and he was the one with the worst luck.
Everybody wanted their soulmate to be part of the royal family. Little children were running around hoping Prince Thor's or Prince Loki's wrists would sport their names as their parents watched with anticipation and doubts until their children learned to read and could understand their soulmarks for themselves.
Many claimed they were a prince's soulmate, but none could prove it.
But Tony's wrist read the word ‘Loki’ in tidy, beautiful runes.
Not Loki Odinson, just Loki; which was odd in a way, but it was the prince's name, the one thing that made Tony special. He knew Thor's soulmate wasn't from Asgard, so he was the only person in his realm who could claim they had the love of a royal... except Tony didn't.
Howard was the royal blacksmith, so Tony's entire life was spent in court. He was younger than the prince, although not much, and he knew Loki could read for a few years already before he first realized what his mark said. He didn't think much of it, at first. Maybe Loki didn't know who Anthony Howardson was, perhaps he would only seek him out later when Loki was older.
But Loki never did.
When Tony was old enough, he took over the forge. He delivered a vast quantity of weapons to the palace and introduced himself many times to the royal family. As they got older, people would ask Tony what his soul mark said. He would smirk bitterly, change the topic, and think about the prince who never smiled and never showed his wrists. He couldn't even bring himself to feel hatred, only pain.
Somewhere out there, Loki's wrist had his name on it, and Loki didn't care.
***
As Loki took Gungnir from Frigga, his hand shook.
Thor was banished, Odin was asleep, and his world has shattered.
***
"Howardson."
Tony's heart beat faster, despite the many centuries he spent trying to desensitize himself to Loki's presence. But this time he had a reason. It wasn't a prince entering his forge.
"My king."
He put the hammer down and resisted the urge to scratch his wrist. He watched the way Loki's eyes wandered to his arm for a second before they were back to his face, with an unfeeling blank mask of politeness.
"I..." The next words never came, and for the first time, Loki's mask cracked; he seemed almost... unsettled. Tony felt sympathy stir in his chest, and an overwhelming thrum of the bond, and thought of the situation his soulmate found himself in. His brother banished, his father asleep, himself on the throne, and at war with Jotunheim; Loki must have felt at a loss.
"My sincerest condolences for the loss of Thor, my king. I hope your father is doing well in the Odinsleep."
"He is not my father."
The words slipped from Loki, clearly unintentional, and Loki immediately pursed his lips tightly, avoiding eye contact.
"What I mean is..."
At that moment, it was hard to think this was the man who has been dubbed Silver Tongue.
"You have always been a good friend to our family, Anthony Howardson. I like to think of you as... my friend." Loki seemed so raw and lost, yet all Tony could think of was the strange hope in his chest. It resulted in him not answering when Loki clearly expected an answer, and he gapped like a fish instead as Loki continued speaking. "I am sorry. Clearly, I was wrong. I don't know why I even came here, I will see myself out--"
"No!" Tony didn't think, he just grabbed Loki's hand; it was shaking. "Are you... alright?"
Loki's eyes broke like a dam, suddenly filled with emotion, so deep Tony couldn't believe anyone could call this man the Ice Prince.
"No. No, Anthony, I am not."
Tony didn't care at that moment if it was wrong or improper, or could get him killed. He tugged Loki into an embrace, hugged him tightly, and relished the way Loki melted into him.
"Come on in. I shall brew you some grog tea."
***
It was definitely the weirdest situation Tony had found himself in for his entire life.
The King of Asgard was sitting on his bed, shoes off, in his socks, hugging his knees and resting his head on Tony's shoulder as he explained that he was actually a frost giant. It was quite a messy tale, and the entire time Loki was touching Tony in some way, clearly touch starved and unused to positive human contact. "And now I'm left with this... Whatever this is. And I'm the king, and we're at war with Jotunheim, except apparently, their king, Laufey... is my father. And with Odin asleep, and Thor not here, and my mother-- Frigga, lying to me my entire life, I just didn't know where to go, but I couldn't just sit there in all of this or I would do something I’d regret, and I have precisely no one I can rely on, but I always thought you..."
"Hey." Tony ran his hand through Loki's hair. "I do want to be your friend. I like you. I was just under the impression you... you know. I thought you hated me."
Loki's head suddenly disappeared from his shoulder, and Tony found himself with the god of mischief looking at him as if he sprouted a second head.
"What?"
"Hated you? I come here at least every decade commissioning daggers and finding random faults in them just to see you, and you thought I hated you?"
Tony gaped.
"Okay, when you put it that way... But then why won't you acknowledge me as your soulmate? You know they don't have to be romantic!"
Loki looked like Tony just slapped him. "Your... soulmate?"
At that moment, watching the way Loki completely froze, his eyes wild and shocked, Tony understood that maybe he didn't have all the facts.
"Loki... why do you always wear long sleeves?"
***
Feeling like his entire life just got uprooted (again), Loki closed his eyes and took off his coat. He heard Tony gasp, felt the way he gently took his hands in his own and traced over the bare wrists.
"You... all your life, you thought you didn't have a soulmate?"
Loki finally dared to open his eyes, seeing no pity in Tony's, just sympathy and love. "I thought I'm unlovable." The words taste bitter on his tongue, but Tony won't judge him for them.
"Lokes. Hey." Tony takes his hand and gently puts it over the markings on his wrist. Loki allows himself to breathe in and relax into it. He lets his seidr run free and feels for the bond Tony claims is between them, and it's... there. He gasps, feeling tears in his eyes as the soulbond finally formed, tying them together.
When Tony let go of his hand, he could read 'Loki' on his wrist perfectly clearly, and it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. It didn't say 'Loki Odinson' or 'Loki Laufeyson,' and somehow, that seemed all the more perfect. He's his own, he wasn't defined by his parents.
"Lokes.” Tony pulled away, looking at Loki with scrutinizing, examining gaze for the longest while. „I do not want to alarm you, but you’re looking kind of... blue."
Loki flinched at first, but Tony didn't seem bothered by him being a frost giant. In fact, Tony was smiling. "Look at your wrist."
There, on a blue wrist, in the same deep lines that cover his entire body, were the words 'Anthony Howardson'.
The glamour...
"Looks like your dad... Sorry, Odin, was a dick, and hid more than the truth from you."
Tony is right, and Loki is done being a dutiful son. He is done thinking about how to please his parents, and he is about to make use of the spear Frigga gave him. Tomorrow he will take the Casket, hand it over to Jotunheim to begin peace negotiations. Tomorrow he will sit on Hildkjalf and be the best king he could be, while he can. Tomorrow, he will think again about everything that happened in the past week and deal with it.
Tonight, he leans and cherishes the taste of Tony's lips, comforted by the fact he won't have to deal with any of it alone.