The Revengers (Loki x Reader)

Chapter 37: Don't Mess with Fate

-Loki's POV-
(From the perspective of Loki)

"I can't believe you dropped me a second time." I huff as Valkyrie does my bandages in the medical wing.

"They'll heal better with casts, y'know." she tells me.

"I know. But, look, can't you just, unbreak them? Snap them back into place?" I ask, hopefully.

"That's not how it works, numb skull." she scoffs, "You're not going to be able to do anything with your hands."

"I broke my wrists, not my hands." I correct.

"I know that, idiot." Valkyrie explains, "But you can't use your hands. They are clean breaks in your wrist. I say it's months until you're back to normal."

"You're fucking with me, aren't you?" I laugh, "Aren't you?"

"You will heal quickly, brother. Mother can help. Her magic is very useful, but you know that of course. You'll have it over with in no time." Thor smiles.

"I cannot believe you did this, dickhead." I groan.

"Do not call me such foul names, Loki." he snaps, glaring at me.

"I mean no harm, brother." I smirk.

"Take back what you said."

"Unbreak my wrists."

"Pathetic." mutters Valkyrie, perfecting my final bandage before leaving the room, evidently sick of the two of us.

"Would you like me to break your ankles next? Or perhaps your neck?" Thor glares.

"Oh really? Threatening me, are we?" I dare.

"I mean no harm, as you said." he reasons.

"You really want a go, tough guy?" I ask.

"Please. Against you?" Thor mocks.

"Yeah. Scared?"

"Absolutely not. For you, perhaps. Not for me."

"Oh my god." groans Jane, walking in, "The testosterone in here is intoxicating. Loki, get out."

"Why me?" I ask.

"Because I said so. I need to talk to Thor." she snaps.

"Imbeciles, the both of you. Match made in Valhalla." I scoff, heading out.

"I'll speak to you at dinner, Loki." Thor calls after me.

"Don't count on it." I retort, heading back to my room.

"Are you really going to hide back in your room?" Stark asks, leaning against a wall in the corridor, fiddling with a piece of machinery.

"I'm not in the mood for your pettiness, Stark." I glare.

"Evidently. But, just.. listen to me for a sec, 'kay?" he urges, "You want (Y/n) back, right? The only way she's coming back, is if we get that machine working. The quicker it's done, the quicker she is here, the quicker you two can get your happy ending and annoy the shit out of me and every other person in this building. Now, I'm not saying you helping us would make a huge difference, but it sure would help and-"

"You're using (Y/n)'s death as a way to manipulate me into helping you create your machine of lies in a meagre attempt at bringing back all of those people that died?" I ask.

"Wha- first of all, she isn't dead."

"Dead as a door nail."

"Second, it's not a machine of lies. I'm good at what I do. This is what I do. And I could really do with your help." he adds, "Look, there's a chance that this won't work. I get it. You're sceptical. But after all you've seen in your life, everything you've been through- does anything really seem impossible? Because, as it turns out, we know nothing about this world. Or universe. Or multiverse. Or whatever this... organisation we live in is. We're on someone else's chess-board. Someone else's deck of cards. We just need to know our next move."

"Wow, Stark. Nice Metaphor. Did you come up with it yourself?" I laugh, "Ooh, all the world's a stage! And all the men and women merely playe-"

"You're unbelievable."

"Did you just interrupt my Shakespeare?"

"You were nearly done, I got the point."

"How do you know I wasn't going to carry on?"

"You weren't."

"I might've. Could've."

"You're a pain in everybody's asses- you know that?" Tony asks.

"An honour." I smirk.

"Alright, alright. Listen to me, Loki. There's too great a chance of this working to not try. You understand? If it was just (Y/n), this would be pointless. If it was just Peter, maybe we wouldn't go through all of this trouble- right? But it's not just them. 50% of everything. Everything. And I know you've been too cooped up in your shack of shame over in 'New Asgard' to see how much we lost, but it's a lot. Nations are bickering, countries are at war with no army- no protection-, families are mourning at a scale never seen before, Industries are falling apart at rapid rates. I say give it two more months and we'll be feral again. Back to the olden days. We have to do this."

"You have too much faith in your humans." I retort, "You think all of your problems will be solved when we bring everyone back? What about that little child whose abusive parent was snapped away? The killer who blipped away before they could touch their victim? The people who were kept silent by their oppressors, finally set free? What happens to them? In pain, there is freedom, and in freedom, there is pain."

"Why are you so much better at the metaphor thing than me?"

"That's not a metaphor."

"You know what I meant. Speeches."

"You're missing my point." I snap.

"And you're missing mine!" Tony retaliates, "This wasn't supposed to happen."

"Most things aren't. But they do. I wasn't supposed to live, right? A boy, left to die in a temple by his own father. Yet, Odin, despite his political intention, saved me. That wasn't supposed to happen. And what? You'd reverse that because it wasn't supposed to happen? You'd take away my life because it affects someone else's? Shit happens. Shit is always going to happen. Deal with it. You can't mess with fate."

"And what if this is our fate? Bringing back these people? Saving our world?"

"Then, Stark, you're one lucky son of a bitch." I shrug, pushing past him to get to my room.