Hidden Troubles

2 | The Penance Of A Prince

Loki's day consisted mainly of sorting out supplies and avoiding the hateful glances the other volunteers shot him. Granted, they didn't know who he was, but they'd picked up on Stark's dislike towards him and so they followed. Like sheep.

Pathetic. Pathetic pathetic pathetic—

"Pathetic little Jotun, begging like a rat."

"What is it willing to pay this time?"

"Will it still defy us? Does it still think itself a god?"

Do not speak do not speak do not speak—

"We've heard you Frost Giants have no liking for fire. Shall we find out if that's true?"

Suddenly without warning, pain shook through Loki's body. Fire licked its way up his body as he shook violently on the cold stone floor. Thanos paced around him. The anger— the anger that vibrated off of Thanos made Loki quail before him like a coward. He curled up into a tighter ball, trying to not scream out, to hide away from the flames that sought him out hungrily. One hand over his stomach and another over his head, trying to protect himself, but it was no good—a yell echoed from his lips.

He wanted the pain to stop. Burning. Burning; that was all that he could feel. Fire worming under his skin like poison, to burn him from within. He wanted release, the cool relief of release. But the fire didn't stop; it crawled its way up his legs and stomach. Burning his chest as it made its way up, up, up to his throat. Loki grabbed his neck in pain and squeezed his eyes shut and prayed from the pain to stop.

But there were no gods in this land of monsters and titans.

***

Tony Stark wanted nothing more than to sit back at the Avengers Tower, tinkering away in his workshop with a glass of some good Old Scotch by his side. But what was he doing instead? Babysitting that arrogant god of mischief and keeping him out of trouble. This may have been Loki's punishment, but it was starting to feel like a punishment to Stark as well.

Nevertheless he went about his usual business during his weekly visits here. Visiting the homeless, checking up on Loki, signing meaningless forms, checking up on Loki. God, that man was worth a hell of a lot more trouble than he should be. Better get back and check up on Rudolph then, he sighed, with a habitual eye roll. Eye rolls were in great abundance when it came to a certain god of mischief.

Circling back round to the supply centre, Tony immediately spotted the tell-tale tall figure poking out from the back, hair so black it was almost blue. But something was different. He was hunched over one of the supply trucks, seemingly stock still. But as Tony got closer, he could see the rapid movement of his chest, painfully raspy inhales, and the trembling breaths that escaped his mouth.

Loki, one of the many names of his existence, was hyperventilating??

No, he's probably just pretending. He's the god of lies for Pete's sake.

But his thoughts sounded too desperate, too forced and false under the circumstances.

And were those—tears?

Oh hell no, this wasn't an act.

"OI Reindeer Games! Snap out of it!"

***

A violent shake of the shoulder jerked Loki back to reality. He found himself shaking, gasping for breath, and an unwanted wetness on his cheek.