Chapter Text
In the Oval Office, in the White House in Washington D.C., Loki sighed.
It was the third time in the space of five minutes. The junior politician in front of him, who had just given him the latest report, showed no reaction only by virtue of being an idiot, where he should have been quaking in his boots.
So what If Loki had been ruling this continent for a while? Humans were both unruly and surprisingly defiant. The more he squashed, the stronger they pushed back. The landmass across the oceans still hadn't been conquered, and to make matters worse, they had somehow become allied with the resistance force he was trying so hard to exterminate.
And those that were subjecting themselves to his rule willingly? Idiots. The lot of them. Loki had to deal with their daily idiocy in the form of paperwork. The bees had suddenly disappeared and now they couldn't pollinate their crops? Well, leave it to Loki to sort it out. And he couldn't delegate day-to-day ruling to because they were useless. Bureaucrats had zero initiative — they were just as mindless as a Chitauri stranded from the hivemind.
Fuck them, he thought, crushing the paper in his hands in anger. 'Why did I even come here. Should have picked Vanaheim.' He rubbed his temples to try to ease his headache, but it wasn't working. What he needed was a spokesperson assistant. Someone who could work with him and not need every wish of Loki's to be spelled out, and who held enough power over humans that they would be happy to work with him.
And he knew just the man.
Tony Stark — ex-billionaire, ex-playboy, ex-philanthropist, but still a genius, at least for however long his sanity lasted — had kept himself busy contemplating how everything had gone to shit in so little time
One moment, he'd been on top of the world, a billionaire with everything in his grasp. The next? In a cell, left to contemplate... well. How everything had gone to shit. He sighed, not even knowing how many days had passed by now. He'd taken to finding whatever lay around his cell that could make a mark and jotting down equations on the walls, if only just so he didn't forget them and to have something to do. Idle hands also weren't his thing.
He was in the middle of reciting one of the calibrations for a Mark VIII stabilizer when he heard footsteps, too absorbed to notice his visitor right away. It was probably one of Loki's mind-controlled goons bringing him his bi-daily dose of porridge anyway.
Loki walked into Stark's cell with a bottle of scotch and two glasses, taking in the room he was seeing for the first time.
Windowless walls covered floor-to-whatever-height-Stark-could-reach in hermetic scribbles and equations; a hole in the floor in a corner, the cement around it stained the typical brown-and-yellow of bodily waste; a plastic tray with no spoon and an empty bowl, evidently licked clean. Finally, Loki's eyes settled on the man himself, pale and thin and unkempt, mumbling steadily to himself curled up on the thin, uncomfortable-looking mattress on the floor.
Oops. It seemed Loki had pushed Stark out of his mind too quickly and forgotten to tell his captors to treat him as befitted a captured general of an enemy army.
Clucking his tongue in disgust, Loki unceremoniously freed the man from his chains with a wave of his hand. "Care for a drink?" he asked, keeping his voice as neutral as possible, and swished the bottle of scotch he had nicked from Stark's own home to get his attention.
It worked like a charm; the man perked up at that and saw the offer of scotch. Tony Stark, while prideful at the best of times, couldn't help but scoot over to the man who'd captured him. "Wow. What's the special occasion?" he asked in the same tone he might've asked anyone he met on the street.
Loki felt relieved, but was careful not to show it too obviously.
'So the human isn't going to fight me on principle,' he thought, the corner of his mouth quirking into a wry little smile. 'Good to know some time in a cell will mellow out even the more recalcitrant of people, not just me.'
He casually poured a measure of the drink in one glass, then thought better of it and poured out half of that in the other one. "Apologies. I know I have not been the best of hosts," he said, passing the tumbler with less drink to Stark. It had been weeks since he had had the man tossed into this cell, and he had certainly not ordered the minions to bring him drinks. Or medical attention for the withdrawal symptoms he had surely suffered. He regretted that now. "Would you care for some ice with that?"
Tony licked his lips. He was, indeed, not in the best of shapes. Dark hollows around his eyes, hair more unkempt than usual... He was without all the facilities and primping he'd been privy to in his previous life, and the mere sight of the glass of scotch had nearly broken him.
To go cold turkey from his drinks, just like that? That'd been one of the worst things. The second, not even knowing what happened to everyone else beyond his cell.
But he was still trying to keep his old snark in place, up until the glass was offered. Reaching out and snatching the glass with trembling hands without answering Loki's question, he tossed the thing back without a care, almost choking on it. He swiped at his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, clutching the glass. "S–so... you didn't answer my question," he huffed unsteadily. "What's the special occassion, R–Reindeer Games...?" Could he even say that? He didn't even know anymore.
To lie or not to lie? A question he had been asking himself since time immemorial. He felt incredible pity for the mortal who had once stood with his head so high. Fuck. Was there anything in creation that didn't turn to shit when Loki touched it?
He hoped the narcotic he had put in the scotch would work fast, and also that the dose hadn't been too high. He had cut back upon seeing how weak Stark was, but he dearly hoped it didn't kill him anyway. "The occasion is that I need your help, Anthony Stark, and I will get it." He would take the man to a better room, more befitting his guest of honour. And maybe he could begin setting all his wrongs to rights.
The human hummed, his head feeling a little lighter. Weird. Tony sat on the ground, looking up at the prim and proper god, thinking, 'What an ass, look how clean he is,' blinking more slowly the longer he stared. "My help? Pfft, what the hell kind of help could I offer you...? Sorry buddy, I don't think..." he trailed off. 'Whoa, dizzy spell,' he thought, his hand rising reflexively as if to grab onto whatever he could. 'Oookay, that was weird'. Tony blinked down lazily at the bottom of his glass as if he might find something interesting in there. "You're out of shit... luck.." Oh God, but his body was becoming heavy and — oh! Hello ground!
Loki scrambled to catch him before the weakened mortal could fall on his face and break it. "Apologies again, Stark, but I feared you would start being difficult if I told you what I have planned for you," he crooned, tapping the mortal's nose and winking. He waited until the man was fully unresponsive before picking him up — he weighed next to nothing, and slumped over Loki like a sleeping child — and using a portal to take him to what had been Stark Tower and was now Loki's home away from home.
Loki had taken Stark's bedroom for his own, but he hadn't had the chance to use it last night and the bed was made and had fresh sheets, so Loki deposited him on it and combed the sleeping man's fringe out of his eyes gently. He then stood up. "Jarvis, I trust you have arranged a medical examination for Anthony?"
Jarvis, the construct — he had called himself an Artificial Intelligence, but Loki called it as he saw it — who ran the building, had been very helpful once Loki had explained his intentions and assured him Stark was alive and safe, way back when he had first taken Stark's building as his prize. He and Loki had become fast, if not friends, at least allies, and the AI had been utterly delighted to hear Loki was bringing Stark back into his care. "I have, Loki," he replied. "Shall I arrange for food as well?"
Oh, yes, that would be lovely. "Please do. What would I do without you, Jarvis?" Loki said wistfully as he left the room. He would have loved to stay and wait in the living room until Stark woke up so they could talk things over a meal, but the little light in his mobile phone told him he had some messages. When he unlocked the screen, he saw four emails, thirteen texts and two missed calls. With a sigh, he teleported back to the White House.
Time to deal with peasants again.
When Tony awoke, it was with a bleary recollection of... well, nothing. Except for the cell, and the usually familiar crick in his back when he woke up from sleeping on the floor. Only, he didn't feel the floor.
Brown eyes flying open, Tony sat up. It was night time outside the... window of his room? Overlooking Manhattan?
Tony patted himself. There was a bandage over his left arm — not just a bad dream, then — and his clothes had been changed into a pressed longsleeve, with the left arm rolled up to make room for the bandages, and nice pants. They probably wanted to make Tony presentable for the new leader of Earth, whoever they were.
"What... the..."
"Good afternoon, Sir. I'm glad to see you've finally woken. May I direct your attention to the nightstand?" the AI quipped from the ceiling. "I've ordered for the finest dishes from the Italian restaurant you always enjoyed, Sir. Unless you would have something else?"
So familiar.
Tony scrubbed at his hair, feeling fresh and clean and... like nothing had ever happened. "Jarvis...? Am I dead?"
"Far from it, Sir. In fact, the medical team have assessed that, despite the state of your malnutrition, everything else seems to be in a right order."
The once-billionaire groaned and moved to stand slowly, as much as he would have loved to stay in the heavenly plush feeling of his sheets... But this was real. And he knew who was behind this all now. But why bring him here? Why bring him out of his cell at all?
After the initial shock of being back, the hunger set in with a fervor, and Tony took the food with him to the couch. He ate and watched TV and ate some more. He was pretty sure he was going to throw it all up sooner or later by how fast he was eating, but he didn't care. A tear even slipped down his cheek once, Tony hunched over his long-empty tray and cradling it in his lap, watching cartoons. He laughed with reckless abandon at even the smallest of jokes, just enjoying the moment.
There was even scotch!
The rest of his afternoon and evening turned out wonderful. Tony had begun exploring his old 'home' — although it wasn't his anymore, was it? He spent a few good minutes just touching this and that just to affirm that everything was real. That he was really here. That he was somehow back outside the world beyond his walls.
Tony feeling lighter than he'd had in weeks — months? He didn't know anymore.
Loki felt his mobile buzz in his jacket and paused the conference with the UN secretary by raising his hand while he glanced at his messages. 'Sir is awake and kicking,' one said, no signature needed. Loki smiled sweetly down at it and replied, 'Please make sure he eats something. Pamper him.' before returning to discussing for what felt like the millionth time his forceful takeover and why it was in the whole planet's best interests to just let him. He promised, yet again, to give it back in more or less pristine conditions after he was done.
By the time the conference was over, three hours and thirty-nine minutes later, Loki was ready to eat a cow whole and maybe punch the incredibly annoying North Korean representative in the face, but they had agreed to sort-of work with him, even if not actually surrender the rule of their countries. As if Loki had wanted that. Yes, exactly, more humans to look after. 'All my birthday presents together could not make me happier.'
But things had ran smoothly once he had managed to get that point across, so he was in an extraordinarily good mood when he decided to pay his guest of honour a visit and appeared from the shadows in the corner right behind Stark, who was watching TV and nursing a glass of something amber. Loki hoped it was apple juice, but he wouldn't bet too much on it.
"Evening, Anthony. I hope this night finds you well," he said casually as he took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie.
A cold shiver ran down Tony's spine, and he almost dropped his tumbler of scotch right then and there, spilling the liquid all over his face and hands and choking a little. But he forced himself to breathe. If Loki wanted him dead, he would have died months (weeks?) ago. "H–hey..." he said at first with little conviction, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "So, uh. I'm guessing you're expecting a thanks for letting me out of the slammer, right?"
Loki would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy how cowed the mortal was around him at least a little bit, but then, he wasn't the god of lies for nothing, was he? He hated that side of himself, remnants from Thanos's hold over him before the Beast had smashed Loki into the ground not two floors above the one they were in right now, clearing away the last of the fog. He was trying to be better than the hateful, vengeful, cruel wretch he had once been, and it was hard work.
"I am not expecting anything from you; but gratitude, if you feel it, is appreciated," he commented, taking out a handkerchief and offering it to the mortal to wipe his face and hands.
Tony looked at it balefully, like it was something that might bite him. But he took it eventually, if just not to offend the other, dabbing almost daintily at his mouth with it.
"May I sit?" Loki enquired, and sat primly on the armchair facing the sofa without waiting for an answer. "I trust everything is to your liking so far? I left Jarvis instructions that he was to cater to your every whim, within reason." He pulled his hands into a steeple-shape and rested his fingers upon his lips, his green, green eyes boring into the mortal's.
At first, Tony said nothing, just cradling his almost empty glass and looking at warily the god, watching his movements, his eyebrow twitching when Loki sat. "Sure, why not," he groaned sarcastically. Hang on, did Loki say... "Jarvis?" he murmured, blinking at his captor. "How did you get him to... He's listening to you?"
Tony couldn't help but feel a little betrayed, a clenching in his heart. The thing birthed from his genius, his. And now Loki's, just like everything else.
"Well, I believe you did made him smart enough to be able to make his own choices in your absence, did you not?" Loki relaxed into his seat, sighing. By Auðumla's saggy tits, this day had been a nightmare. It was good to finally be home, for certain values of home, though he was sure Stark would disagree most vehemently. "I believe the technical phrase is 'kudos to you'?" His eyes bore into Stark's all the harder in the subsequent strained silence.
Tony found Loki's intense stare difficult to sit under. Just plain uncomfortable. He set his glass aside to fiddle with the handkerchief instead, trying to avoid the god's expectant eyes. Instead, he watched as Loki seemed to uncoil from the stress of the day. After a moment of shifting almost nervously his seat, Tony let his eyes drift slowly to Loki's, trying to challenge him if even just in this. "Your eyes are green. That's new."
That was defiant, right? Staring him right in the eyes long enough to note their color; which, by the way, he remembered being blue, from back when the god thought it fun to toss him out of his own window like a ragdoll.
'Ooh, observant,' Loki smiled, pleased. Very pleased indeed. He had known Stark to be smart, yes, and quick at making connections. Jarvis had sung his maker's praises easily enough. But he hadn't even begun to guess Stark was observant too. "Yes, my eyes are green. Good of you to notice."
Good that he wasn't too scared to look him in the eye. The thing Loki liked best about Stark was his spirit, and he didn't want it broken. In fact, he wanted Stark as happy and empowered as he could be. He regarded Stark carefully, noticing how his shoulders remained slumped, despite the bravado in his face and voice. 'Tread carefully, Loki,' he told himself.
"Stark, Jarvis is his own person," he said after a while, breaking the silence. "If he helped me, it was because it was in your best interest. He loves you dearly."
Tony actually straightened, a frown on his face and narrowing his gaze a little. Great. So Loki had basically sweet talked Jarvis into working with him, wasn't that wonderful? "Wait. So you're telling me Jarv thought it was best for me if I rotted in a cell?" he breathed through his nose, but Loki was right though. Jarvis knew well enough to operate in a way Tony had programmed him to. Free thought, even while he served others.
He'd just never expected Jarvis to serve the god.
Loki wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of finding himself reassuring the mortal. What had become of his life, his goals? "I am my own person now, as well," he continued seriously, looking Stark in the eye again, but this time so the man could see how there was no trace of falsehood there, "as you have just noticed."
The mortal reached up — with a steadier hand now, as he had worked to lessen the shaking over the hours he had to himself — and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right... wait. So you're different?" Tony blinked around, noting the god's lack of wicked-pixie-stick-of-destiny. "And what does that mean exactly?"
Loki smiled cruelly, though Stark couldn't know the cruelty wasn't directed at him, or at anything on this planet. "It means I can be reasoned with. It means, dear mortal, that I have regained full use of my faculties, and that I shall use them to gain revenge." Though he didn't say on whom. He would trade the human something for that information, and watching him stew was fun in its own way.
Tony didn't like the look of that grin spreading on the other's face but he said nothing to it, pushing that distrust aside. "Revenge?" he found himself blurting, still unsure as to what Loki's goal was here.
A look around and outside had proved that not much of Manhattan looked like it had been changed, really, making the billionaire wonder whether or not Loki was actually real or some horrible figment of a coma from knocking his head around too hard in the Iron Man suit. Of course, he didn't truly believe that as much as he would have preferred it.
Tony just eyed the god warily, perched at the edge of his seat with his legs crossed under him. He needed a shave. He wanted to roll back into bed and sleep and hope he awoke into a world that didn't suck. He wanted to know why Loki let him out.
While Stark got lost in his own thoughts, Loki kicked off his shoes, which for all their elegance pinched his toes, and rested his feet on the coffee table. Excellent. Now all he lacked was a bottle of chilled ale and he was set; he already had the soft lighting and the delightful company. Noticing the enquiring glint in Stark's eyes, he answered the question the mortal couldn't bring himself to ask.
"If you care to know, Jarvis has been trying to convince me to set you free since he understood my aims," he sighed, and a bottle of chilled micro-brewed ale appeared in his hand. "He had little skill with persuasion at first, though I will say this: he is a fast learner." He smiled and sipped his drink, the bubbles bringing up the feeling of celebration in him.
And why shouldn't he celebrate? He was so close to finally getting rid of Thanos and saving the Nine Realms while he was at it. If only Stark would cooperate.
The occasion is that I need your help, Anthony Stark, and I will get it. Hadn't those been his words? Tony remembered them through a foggy echo in his mind.
"Well yeah. Jarvis is... he's something," Tony offered weakly, watching Loki's feet resting on his table. Wait. No. Not his. The man frustratingly ran his hands through the more-than-messy frump of hair on his head. "So, hang on, why are you being nice?" he asked, tired of beating around the bush. He just wanted to get straight to the point. "What are you playing at, Loki?" Tony huffed, "I liked it back in my cell, thank you very much, and I think you still liked me locked away all the same too. So what do you want?"
Well. Tony Stark hadn't been completely broken, that was for sure, even if he wanted to take back the thing about the cell as soon as he'd said it.
And there he was, at last: Stark, defiant. It was the reason Loki had chosen him, or rather, the reason why he was Loki's only way out. He was a phoenix. Loki knew Stark had thought that before, but even the mortal didn't know how true it was.
Loki sighed and reclined more comfortably — almost snuggling into his stolen chair. Ah, mortals sure liked their luxuries. "If you mean that, I am almost sure we could arrange for it. I think it is still free," he smiled challengingly.
Knowing full well Loki could just take him and throw him right back into his cell on a whim, Tony squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He scratched at his arm nervously, messing with the bandage, but didn't say anything. He didn't want to challenge or goad the god into making that a reality.
When Stark declined the opportunity to answer, Loki's smile grew larger in triumph, though not cruel. "Truthfully — and yes, I am aware of the irony of me, God of Lies, appealing to the truth — truthfully, you are more use to me free than chained. I need you to plead my case to the resistance."
Free!? Tony's eyes flew open, and had he been holding his glass to his lips at that moment, he would have sputtered and sprayed everything in expensive scotch. He stared at Loki in disbelief for about five seconds. Then, suddenly, a laugh escaped his lips, and Tony slapped his knee. "Wait, Wait... You want me to... to help you take over the rest of my world?" Tony couldn't help but shiver with nervous chuckles.
Loki's words did make Tony wonder just what the state of the world was in, after all, if there was a resistance against Loki. He felt his heart go out to them, actually.
Loki waited until he stopped patiently, having expecting something of the sort. 'Yes, little mortal, laugh at my plan,' he thought bitterly. Here he was doing his best to keep this watery rock from imminent destruction, and Stark thanked him by pointing and laughing.
If there was one thing he hated, more than being ignored, it was being laughed at.
It reminded him of his childhood home.
"Right. Sorry," Tony continued, wiping at one eye, pretending to dry tears of mirth. "Do you remember what I did before you came in and wrecked our party, Loki? I was an Avenger. Obviously I failed, but you can't really expect me to help you..."
It was with a tight smile that Loki answered, at last. "Helping me is, ultimately, helping yourself. I am on your side, Anthony, though, of course, I do not expect you to understand that any time soon." His smile tightened, and his hands clenched into fists on the armrests in frustration.
At that, Tony actually quirked a brow at the god. "You're on our side?" He frowned. He couldn't believe that, with any fiber of his being, right? Last time, if he remembered correctly, Loki had come swooping in, taken over the mind of a friend, killed another, pretty much levelled a good portion of central Manhattan, and now had taken over the world. Was he missing something? The billionaire could only sit back a little in an 'I'm listening' manner. He doubted even the Silver-Tongued One could convince him to work with him.
Loki didn't answer at first, merely watching Tony, evaluating him. Then he laughed, and it wasn't a nice sound. It was mocking and cold and cruel. "And here I chose you because you seemed smarter than anyone on you lot," he chuckled. "No, you foolish human. Of course I am not on your side." He snorted. "I just paraded around very visible, boasting of my plans of world domination to everyone who would hear, in case they had any doubt about my intention. And it was obviously a miscalculation on my part that I angered each and every one — that was how you phrased it, correct? — of the people on Midgard who could possibly stop me." He sipped his ale, darkly amused, letting that sink in.
Okay. So... Maybe he was wrong. Tony's eyes widened as he just stared, dumbfounded by the god's words. He and Bruce had commented about exactly that the night after Loki's capture, while the god was sitting pretty in the glass tank. How everything seemed to be... loose-ended, only half thought out. They hadn't been able to see past that, but it was the makings of a theory that not everything Loki did was up front... And they'd learned that later when the Hulk got involved.
"And opening exactly one small portal to let my army trickle through into a city that, while populous, is neither the political or military capital of your pathetic world was just poor planning on my part, was it not?" Loki winked. "Oh, and let us not forget how my control over the man building it was so weak that he managed to build a safeguard to turn it off when he wanted. You said you yourself, did you not? I recall now, yes. 'There is no way you can come out on top,' was it? And, oh, this is too good," he let out a bark of poisonous laughter. "I give you victory served on a platter, and you stupid, stupid mortals still manage to lose."
Tony's lips parted a little. He actually felt kind of stupid. Everything Loki said was making sense.
Why would he have given Selvig permission to build something to close the portal? Why would he piss off the most powerful of Earth's heroes? It didn't make sense. For fun? No, while he wanted to believe it, he knew that wasn't right. So then...
"So you orchestrated everything?" he felt stupid just saying that, burned by his own words being used against him. "You knew all along everything that would happen... Until we lost. But you won?"
Loki nodded, a bit uncertainly. So... Stark believed him, just like that? And here was the difference between explaining himself to someone smart and trying to persuade someone stupid. Thor, for all he purported to be his brother, had pleaded with Loki to stop lying, to stop trying to manipulate him, when Loki had raised the exact same points he had just now. But Stark was clever; he had probably seen a lot of what Loki had just used as evidence and struggled to understand it.
Something clicked in Tony's mind. "Who are you running from?" Tony tilted his head as he crossed his arms. Who could possibly have such wily, tricky guy like Loki going through all this trouble? "You know, asking for help is usually the first way to go about these things," he huffed weakly.
Loki bit his tongue at that. In fact, Stark was too clever by far, his brain exposing to him the root of the problem just as quickly as he had understood Loki's point.
"I am not used to being listened to, Stark. I have learned to coerce and cajole favours from people," just today he had done exactly that in the conference with the so-called-United Nations, "favours they have always demanded I repay. Even when my voice is the one of reason," Loki smiled bitterly, "the fact that it is mine is reason enough to turn deaf ears on me." And yet, wonders of wonder, he had actually managed to get them to listen.
He regarded Anthony consideringly. The mortal was already half-way on his side, which was a nice change, but should Loki just blurt everything out to him, no finesse, no eloquence, no rhetoric? Loki was unused to speaking plainly, preferring to speak in riddles, letting others draw their own conclusions, letting them think it was their idea, not his. "You need not concern yourself with what is coming." It would be better if Stark didn't know too much, lest he be scared. "Content yourself in the knowledge that you have not been tasked with dealing with it yourself nor will you ever have the displeasure to."
Loki's eyes grew unfocused as he remembered Thanos, and the pain and the humiliation and the subservience and the satisfaction of cheating him, looking in Stark's general direction but not seeing him.
He blinked, clearing his thoughts, and looked back at the tiny, puny mortal that held the fate of the Nine in his hands without knowing it. "Stark. I have taken you out of confinement for one reason, and one reason only: the forces of this planet cannot stand divided, or we will all fall. Your task is to be my ambassador to the resistance and get them to agree to work with me, nothing more, nothing less." He paused, looking intently at Stark. "What say you?" he asked, pinning him with his old, old eyes.