My War Is Over (Original Unfinished Version)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Finally, chapter 26 is here!!! Between writer's block and losing all my drafts...it's been a long wait. I appreciate all of you for continuing to support me despite that! You are all amazing! I hope you enjoy this chapter and the future ones to come! Happy reading!

xoxoJade

-oOo-

Loki finds himself practically gliding into the furthest corner of Tony's bedroom with the grace of a ballerina. He slides down the wall, drawing his boney knees to his chest and burying his face into his too-thin arms. 

My hands hold nothing.

The words, more corrosive than any poison had ever burned on his tongue, have rung inside his head through various different creative arrangements of sound for longer than he can even remember. Spoken to him by his own abusive mind and spat at him by the lips of Asgardians. 

You're nothing but a cruel trickster, scum! I hope you know you deserve to be alone and always will be. 

Yet now, that's a lie, really. He isn't exactly alone anymore, even though it still feels that way. Thor, as much as the name of that golden-child still burns on his tongue with a white-hot fire and sends a flurry of competing, confusing emotions bubbling up into his chest singing loud of love and betrayal, and Frigga, whose presence alone is complicated enough on it's own as she's always seemed to be a lurking figure in the background, never moving to stop the pain she could have easily prevented yet often lending a gentle hand to soothe him regardless, if only for a brief moment before she took it away again; have both made it as clear as they could to him in their own separate ways that he is welcome to return to Asgard should he so please to do so. 

But Loki has long-since learned that Asgard is simply no place for him. It isn't his home, never was to begin with, and most likely would never hold that title in his head ever again. At least, not now. Not yet. Certainly not with the looming presence of the All-Father darkening the edges of it's once bright, glittering gold. Thor seems to have changed, but Loki is just waiting for him to revert back to his old ways of uncaring once the threat of losing his once "brother" has passed. Through all of his many years of existence, Loki has learned that leaving is what people do to him. He isn't worth sticking around for. He has no one to claim ally to, no one to turn to when tears flood his vision. He's a trickster, a liar, a cheater, and a weakling. Now he's a monster too. His destiny has always been one of loneliness and solitude. The smiles and gentle words from Thor are simply illusions that drive deep stakes into his heart. He wishes that Thor would not put up such a caring front for him as he will only revoke the well-crafted facade (since when was Thor able to lie so well?) once Loki is returned to Asgard, locked away and punished for his many crimes; finally in the place where everyone seems to want him, where he belongs: alone. 

Yet, despite this, the mortals still continue to confuse him. Although attempting to rule over his home world and waging war down upon his people, Tony Stark still permeates the air around him with a subtle sense of safety. It's another illusion, Loki reminds himself sternly, yet it's one that tears at his thin resolve even harder than Thor's false sense of kindness does. Anthony's calloused hands on his skin, carding through his hair, unraveling pinkish bandages, and teaching him which buttons on the strange mortal device he calls a "remote" correspond to which actions on the large magic moving picture machine anchored to his wall; are gentle. The warmth of his body against Loki's own cool one is soothing, the quiet assurances the engineer utters into his ears when he shakes at night console his racing heartbeat threatening to break through his chest; dangling the idea that all the kindness that has been presented to him since the mortals discovered the Mad Titan's faded grip on his mind is real. That he can be cared for. That he can have allies and, in Anthony's particular case, perhaps a true relationship of his own that doesn't involve pain or is simply a ruse; a means for the opposite party to grow closer with the golden prince.