My fault (The true story of Ultron and a buncha chaos)

All my fault

POV: Loki

I wake up locked in my bedroom, dark except for the lava lamp that used to be green and gold and now has mixed to a muddy green. My head hurts, and I can tell by my blue, handcuffed hands that I was knocked out. I put back on my Asgardian illusion, ignoring the uselessness of it when no one's around. My phone's on my desk, and I check the time. Hardly two in the afternoon. All this trouble for touching the doorknob.

I take a look at my handcuffs, but I don't see how I can get them off yet. Probably going to have to trick Thor into giving me the key at some point. I've gotten pretty good at doing things in handcuffs, so I open my phone to text Peter. He has a Norse Mythology project in reading, one on me, and apparently he has to pick a single story. I tell him to pick one where I'm the good guy, and not one of the recent ones. I'm not sure if he will, but I tell him I'll look.

When was I the hero? I can't even remember. I tried once, and ended up getting yelled at by Odin for trying to destroy Jötunheim and faking my own death. I never knew if they mourned or not, and I'd never asked anyone. Not even mother...

I'll just assume they didn't. After all, I'm the villian in almost every story. And when I'm not, the rest of the frost giants are. Beautiful childhood, really. Thank you, Odin.

I reach for a new book, a smaller one that wouldn't be annoying to read while handcuffed. I still have to turn the pages from the bottom, but it works. I don't open it, reminded this was one mother had given me. Did she know that one day I would be in a situation like this, that I would be imprisoned in a different way? Did she know I really wasn't going to stay in the Asgardian prisons forever? I push the thoughts out of my mind, deciding to read the pages and think of nothing else.

 The first page has a message, written in mother's tidy scrawl. I almost don't want to read it.

Loki,

A day may come when you may doubt I am your mother. No matter how soon that is, or whether it is true or not, you are my son, and I love you. Please do not waste your life with evil.

Something large and dark settles onto my heart as I read it again. You are my son, and I love you.

"Mother," I whisper, not loud enough for anyone in the hallway could hear. "Mother, I miss you."

I don't turn the page and think of everything I should've done differently. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to take over Midgard. Maybe I should've forced them to let me out when they were breaking everyone out of prison. If only I was there, I could've done something-

"Stop regretting everything," someone said. I looked up from the pages and saw myself, looking down at me with scorn and disbelief. "You deserved Midgard. You should've been king."

"It doesn't matter," I said, hearing the sorrow in my voice and hating myself for it. "Mother's dead and it's my fault."

"It's Odin's fault, for locking you up. It's Thor's fault for not acting. It's Jane's fault for needing protecting. You did nothing," Other me said, pacing.

"That's why it's my fault," I said, hugging my knees to my chest. "Go away."

"How can anyone expect a ruler from someone as weak as you?"

"Pain isn't weakness," I whimpered, feeling myself tearing up. Mother was gone, and it was my fault. I shouldn't be allowed to have happiness, not right now.

"Keep telling yourself that," he said. "Have you ever seen Odin sad?"

I hadn't, and I knew it. But Odin didn't seem to care about anyone, did he? That in itself is reason not to rule. I realize I'm being hypocritical and look down at the page of my book. Please don't waste your life with evil, I could hear her saying. Chin up, my son.

"No one counts Odin," I said, tears starting to stream down my face. I try to brush them away. "Leave me alone."

"Evil is a myth," he said. Blue inched its way up my arms.

"Maybe it isn't. Maybe mother's right."

He takes out a knife and starts twirling it around his fingers. "You know you're wrong."

"Maybe I don't. Does it matter?"  I tugged on the strings of my hoodie I'd never changed out of. "It's not like I can change."

"It doesn't matter that you believe the woman who's married to your parent's murderer? Look at yourself. Pathetic."

"She is my mother," I said, truly trying to believe it. "Without her you wouldn't be here to torment me."

"Without her you would be king of the frost giants." He tossed the knife into the air and caught it. "Although that would mean they would fall, seeing as how bad of a ruler you would be."

"Shut up."

"You know you would be."

I stood up, closing the book with mother's tearstained letter inside. "Kneel."

"Trying to rule? You think someone who knows you would ever kneel before you?"

"Kneel!" I shouted, rage stifling my sorrow. "I am your king. I am your rightful ruler. Kneel before me."

"Interesting how the god of lies will say 'I am your rightful ruler'," he said, still not kneeling. "While handcuffed as well."

I swung my hand through the illusion and it dissipated into green smoke.

A moment later I was lying on my bed sobbing. Pathetic, I could hear myself say. Who cares? No one. Not anymore. Mother was the only person who accepted my idiot, adopted, frost giant self, me included. And no matter how hard I tried, I would never rule anyone longer than a day. Not even my own illusions.

____________________________________________________________________________

Okay, I apologize for making Loki so depressed. But come on, he has a reasonably sad backstory compared to some other characters (cough the Guardians choughity cough). I just can't pretend things are all sparkles and rainbows and stabbing Thor. Anyways, things will get better, not worse. I'm surprised I can write things this sad, too. On a different note, I will probably start updating a little less than seven chapters a week, but I'll try to keep updating a chapter a week. At least every other week?

If you like the fanfic, be sure to vote on your favorite chapters!