Crying Tears of Gold - a Slave Loki Fanfic

when god, the mighty maker, died

"Tony,"

The name snapped Tony out of his trance, and he was grateful for that, at least a little. Even if he never verbally thanked Steve whenever he helped bring Tony back to reality every time his mind unconsciously traveled back to those days, Tony was somewhat grateful.

"Right," he blinked, trying to appear nonchalant like he hadn't had just spent a very long minute traumatizing about the battle with Thanos in a very specific detail again. "Right, you're right." He went on, even though Tony stopped listening to what Steve suggested they should cook for tomorrow's breakfast quite a while ago — with his attention having shifted towards the day he'd almost died in the battle field — and therefore Tony had no idea what he'd agreed to.

Steve sighed, softly, and by the look on his face he knew exactly what just happened. He sat down on a seat opposite Tony. The wooden table separated the two retired Avengers was empty, saved for the two mugs of hot cocoa, after Steve finished washing the dishes after their dinner (it was Steve's turn tonight)
"You're still having nightmares," it wasn't a question.

Tony shrugged. He survived, sure, but not without scars, even though the most severe ones weren't physical. And he knew he had it worse than Steve, because he was the one waking up in a hospital with half his body burnt.
(Tony had expected death, accepted it perhaps too willingly before he snapped his fingers and turned Thanos and his army into dust. Once or twice he'd thought, even if he'd never told anybody about it, not even Sam, he would've preferred death, because death would've been less painful than months of physical therapy, surgery after surgery. The wound it left in his soul remained fresh, it oozed blood still, and Tony doubted if it'd ever heal)

"Sam said I shouldn't expect it to be easy," Tony chuckled humorlessly. "The man sure knows exactly what he's talking about."

Steve just looked at him. And Tony knew that; that helpless look on his friend's face and Tony knew how much Steve hated being helpless.
"No, no, you know you can't feel bad about this... about me, Steve. It's not something for you to worry about."

"Well, you're my friend. And I have the right to be worried, if you're not well," Steve offered Tony a somewhat forced smile, a hint of stubbornness behind his eyes.

"I've survived, Steve. We both did. Shouldn't that be something?"

"It is something." This time Steve's smile felt more sincere, certainty swam through his voice before his face returned to worries. "I just wish I could help."

"You are helping." Tony said, and when Steve gave him a look of confusion, added, "By, you know, being here. I would've lost my damn mind for good, had I were to be here alone. In the middle of freaking nowhere like a witch in the woods in a horror movie or something,"

That did earn Steve a sincere chuckle. "I guess you could thank me for agreeing to live here with you, then."

"Oh please," Tony took a sip of his cocoa, now chuckling with the former Captain America. "What am I gonna do without you?"

They were laughing, and for a moment it almost looked like nothing was wrong; just two best friends decided to live their retired lives together in a lakeside cabin, away from people and everything. It almost looked like they had never been through a war where lives of half the universe were at stake, their own lives were at stake. And it certainly almost looked like everything was going to be okay.

A heavy thud coming from their front door halted their little conversation, and second later silence suddenly took over the dinning room.

Steve and Tony reflectively, immediately looked towards the direction.

(Steve almost -- just almost -- reached for his shield, before he remembered, with a strange feeling in his chest, he was no longer the Captain America, and it was his own choice. Though him and Tony choosing to step away from a hero life didn't automatically mean they were magically guaranteed a simple life without any... incident. They should've known that. But they were, like Tony had put it, in the middle of nowhere in the woods. No one except a few friends knew their whereabouts)

"Could be nothing," Tony's voice was a whisper, only loud enough for Steve to hear. It could be nothing. They couldn't get spooked every time they heard a strange noise, but they were battling a battle with their own minds still; what was left from a war with Thanos in which Sam called a PTSD, which explained the paranoia.

But it's too quiet now, Steve thought unhappily. From his experience, the lack of any and all sound was never a good sign. "I'm gonna go check. You stay here."

"Like hell I'm gonna stay put," Tony muttered under his breath. Steve shot him a look, but didn't protest when the older man moved from his seat and started following him towards the door.

Steve thought -- wished -- it would've been nice, if he still had his shield, at least so he could feel this sense of... safety. But he knew it was never the shield that provided him safety. Just the... lingering nostalgia. He pushed all of that asides and carefully made for the door, Tony followed closely behind with a bat he somehow, without Steve's seeing, grabbed on his way from the dinning room.

He opened the door in one quick movement, half of him prepared for a sudden attack while the other half expected to be greeted with nothingness, just like the last time this happened (and when they went to look for anything suspicious it turned out to be just a fox paying them a visit)

It wasn't a fox. It definitely wasn't a fox. Steve and Tony stood there, stunned and not really knowing what to do (because both of their instinct would be to activate Killing Mode, but the thing -- a person -- crouching, no, kneeling at their front door certainly did not appear as a threat, far from it) But this was... they both knew who it was, which was why they were suddenly struggling trying to decide if they should attack first before --

But Loki was in chain, his head held down with eyes glued to the floor, and he was wearing a collar of some sorts, too. So he was... far from being a threat here, even though he was the Loki.

And why is Loki doing here? Why is he in chain looking like he'd been hit a hundred times by Mjonir? No, most importantly, Loki was supposed to be bead. Thor told them he was dead, killed by the Mad Titan on the Statesman.

But Loki was here, clearly hurt and, if Steve and Tony dared to guess, scared, because he was shaking, not frantically, but his shoulders were trembling and even if they couldn't perfectly see his face that well under the shadow of the night, they could tell he feared something. Perhaps he feared them, there was no one else here.

None of this was making any sense.

"Loki," finally Steve was the one to break the silence. His voice seemed to reach Loki's ears at least, because he was slowly lifting his gaze up until his eyes met them. There was something about the look on his face; obvious fear that was more visible now, but there was also something else. And Loki wouldn't speak a word.

"Is this some kind of a joke?" Tony's words were, for some reason, more directing at Steve than Loki, like he expected Steve to give him an answer because he was too spooked to speak directly with Loki, even like this.

"Loki," Steve said again, his eyes never left the self-proclaimed god to glance sideway at Tony. "What's --" What's going on? There were simply too many questions that needed to be asked that Steve didn't know which to ask first. Thor said he was dead. Thor was certain when he said, with pain in his voice, his brother had been brutally murdered right in front of him.

"What is this?" Steve said at last. He was growing more frustrated as Loki offered no response.