For we once so loved the world by HowlingDarkness95

Chapter 23

Back in Malibu, the avengers all milled around, each doing their respective jobs whilst trying not to think about the implications of having SHIELD be taken over by the chitauri. Loki on the other hand, was lying around on his bed, unwilling to mix with the rest of the mortals now that Percy was gone, and trying to sort out the tangle of emotions that had come with every interaction he had with said hero of this realm. He didn't believe that the avengers deserved the title 'hero', not when all they had ever done was fight off a hoard of mindless aliens. Not when the gods had helped them to restrict the area of damage. Not when he himself had ensured that there were loopholes to be exploited. Not when they had done so little of the actual work.

His thoughts flitted back to the source of all his conflicting emotions, Percy Jackson. It seemed that everything revolved around him. He knew of course, of the tales that were told on Asgard about him. His feats of accomplishments when he was not even of age yet. But he also knew the truth of his deeds, that he did it for his friends, and not because of glory, like how the Asgardians had portrayed him to be. Loki could count on one hand the number of times that they had met and had a serious conversation, but he couldn't understand why he was so inexplicably drawn to the other's presence, and if it was any indication, the way the other was drawn towards him as well.

He honestly hadn't known about the boy's past – and so what if he had? He didn't have any right to judge – but he was surprised, to say the least. To find out that he was not who he thought he was either...

Loki felt that his world had been ripped away from him again. For a long time – how many centuries did he spend in the void? – he had labored under the impression that he was born to be like this. To be a villain. That he was taken from Jotunheim for the sole purpose of raising Thor to a god-like status, for Odin to show the stark comparison between the two brothers, raising the golden one on a pedestal while casting the darker prince into the shadows, forgotten and used. He had convinced himself that he was nothing more than a monster, unworthy of any good.

Until Percy Jackson had told him about his past.

Loki didn't understand. He didn't understand how the boy could have done so much for the gods, sacrificed friends and innocence and morality for them and still not turn against them when he exposed their secret. He didn't understand how the boy could live with knowing that he had been used by the very people he fought so hard to protect, live with knowing that his entire life was a lie, a lie fabricated by the gods who cursed and shunned him, live with the knowledge that he was their puppet and still continue living.

When he had gripped the Casket and felt the ice creep up his hands and transform his body, he was sent into a rage that burned beneath his breast, smoldering and encasing his mind in madness. He didn't understand how Percy could experience all that and still be willing to help the gods who had done the same to him, he himself certainly didn't want anything to do with Odin.

Was that the difference between them? The reason why Loki was heralded as a monster and Percy as a hero? Because he had the ability to forgive them while Loki clung on to his grudges like a desperate man?

He thought of his brother, how Thor had pleaded with him constantly to cease his madness and what did he do? He stabbed his brother in the gut.

Loki clamped his hands over his head, hunching in on himself. For once in his life, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how a single person could shake his world so drastically. He was Loki, the person who always had a plan for every situation. He was Loki, the man who fell into the Void and emerged stronger. He was a god, who had been beaten down by mere mortals. He was Loki, a prince, a sorcerer, a liar, a king, a traitor, a monster, a slave, a prisoner.