As a god, you are oddly bound to mortal beings.
You can tell if a mortal being believes, if it worships or if it despises, it does not affect your power, but it is a tingle in the back of your mind, and that was a fact.
It did not surprise Loki that all he ever received was ignorance and hatred and disbelief.
Who would worship a being of chaos?
For hundreds of years he knew the answer, no one, not one mortal, not one thing, not one being in the realms.
And then suddenly, for the first time, he had an odd feeling, something he never experienced before, something that took him a while to notice.
It felt like a spark of magic that clung to his neck, the back of his head, something warm and tingling, but so subtle, where usually just the cold hatred lies.
He could not figure it out, or believe it was meaningful, it did not interfere with his magic and didn't belong to another sorcerer, so after a while and no answers he got used to it, ignored it and forgot it.
The next time he felt it was just seconds after he fell into the void that tried to melt his sanity and swallowed him like quicksand, he felt it, the tiny spark, like an ember, and it died, and that second felt worse than the void, worse than the abandonment of whom he thought his kind, because it was then that he realised it for what it had been, worship.
Someone who believed in the ability of chaos had forgotten him, or worse, died, and the thought pulled itself into a stream of something that felt almost like panic but then,
emthen/em what seemed seconds later but must have been hours and days and weeks it came strongback/strong.
Stronger than ever, not a spark, no, not a small ember nicely glowing in the dark, it was balefire!
It burned black and hot and silver with wrath for emsomething/em he did not know, the adoration for his element bliss to the tortured mind.
He leaned back into the embrace of that feeling, forgetting the void, forgetting the painfully ordered nothingness of the place that was no place. Forgetting himself.
The next time he opened his eyes, after that force, that being that worshipped him, had calmed and allowed some order back, after that overwhelming feeling had slowly dimmed down to a gleaming silver cradle against his scull, he looked into the eyes of a thing he never hoped to meet. Thanos, the thing that loved death, the thing that courted death, the most ugly thing he'd ever imagine to see and he had seen many things.
The sceptre touched his chest, touched his mind and warped it, no, it locked him in and created a, a facade of him and made him watch how his body did not create chaos but simple death and misery.
This, emthis/em was not what he was! He was no puppet! He was no pawn and he certainly was not a worshipper of death! He was no destroyer! When chaos destroyed it always left a path to create something better!
But what the sceptre made his body do was not chaos, is was plain and simple destruction and it plain and simple disgusted him!
He still could feel the slick, elegant silver presence, it was hard to recognize it for what it was behind all the blue crystalline walls, behind that inferior cage that his being had been shoved into by that vile creature , that he was locked away.
But the worst, oh but the worst was still to come when he arrived at Midgard, spreading death around like a gift to those small mortal souls, but no, that was not the worst.
The worst, the thing that made the metaphorical bile rise to his throat was when he stood in the tower that had a name plastered to it's front, when Iron Man became Tony Stark in front of his very eyes. The mortal only armed with a sharp tongue that made Loki want to flyte with him, but that copy, that warped part of him that had control of his body pathetically failed and Loki could swear that he knew him, that he knew that mortal who could not possibly have ever crossed his way.
And then, Tony Stark, not Iron man the hero, but Stark the mortal stood in front of him, face to face and looking him into the eye.
He felt as though the man was speaking to Thanos, as if he knew that this was not emhim/em as if the mortal knew he was no part of this and he realised, looking through the cage into those eyes, he could see the elegant but ruthless silver aura of technology and intelligence surround the man and suddenly emrealised/em, this, THIS was the man who worshipped him!
This was the man who cradled his scull, his chaos, destruction and creation, who had burned hotter than the blazing fires of Muspelheim and - with belated horror that his body had lifted the sceptre to the mortals chest, saying something, and emno/em, strongno/strong, NO!
He threw all his mind, all his magic he did not control anymore, all of his that was still him against the crystalline cage and, no he could not allow Thanos to take this from him too!
A high whine.
For the first time he could feel an emotion roll past the barriers of his prison, anger, oh it was angry that it could not control the Stark and he felt a bubble of mad laugher rising, and he let it.
He laughed, he laughed at Odin who didn't believe him when he told his supposed father that he seemed to have a mortal admirer of chaos, at the other gods who complained about the fragility of their worshippers, at Thanos, but mostly at himself, since only he would have been able to get the one single mortal to worship chaos (without even lifting a finger) who could resist the magic of the sceptre that even he had been unable to counter.
And it took all but a moment for him to feel the glee stutter to a halt as he saw his arm grab Stark who squeezed out the name "Jarvis" (and who could that possibly be to call when death is imminent )and fling him at the window, which broke, and watch the mortal, his mortal, fall.
And watch a machine follow him.
And watch him rise.
And that was when he knew, that this man was beyond extraordinary, that calling him a mortal shall be an insult, that this man who held himself like a Lord, could never, should never have been mortal as he was!
Oh how he hated that Stark didn't see him, how he hated that the god was encaged as he was and that he must believe him to be this stupid oaf of a destructor that Thanos made his body be.
It was just a while later that that great green monster took him by the leg and slammed him into the ground numerous times as if he was a wet rag, he felt his spine and his ribs and his leg break, he felt the cage shatter and the magic, the freedom flood him, let the pain rip him into the foreground of his body.
Thanos spell was broken and everyone believed him to be a thing of destruction, deception and lies.
They would make him pay for the things that Thanos puppet had done, and the things he had done before the Void, before he even knew of the existence of the Lord like Midgardian who revelled in chaos and all those... those stupid misunderstandings, all those things people believed him to be and ... and he was.
That was when the truth hit him, again, like a bilgesnipe, he was, truly, a monster, he was a Jotun, at least partly.
Up until now he didn't have the time to realise what that meant, he wasn't a god, he was just a creature, he was just a - a monster a vile thing, how could Stark worship something like him?!
But of course, the man didn't worship him, he didn't even know him, how could he, no what Stark held dear was chaos, not a some vile Jotun breed.
But he couldn't know now, could he?
Tony wouldn't know what he was, right?
Slowly and still with cracking bones and joints but a mostly healed spine he sat down onto the stairs of Starks halls facing the window front.
And all orderly, one after another the Avengers, Midgard's, Earth's mightiest heroes lined up in front of him , looking at him with grim determination and hatred, of course they wouldn't know the difference, they couldn't see the difference between him and Thanos puppet.
He did not have to feign the defeat and regret on his face when he looked up, and looked at all of them, and then at Tony Stark (who looked at him as if he planned something, revenge, wonderful) and he felt like he wanted to say something, something disarming, something to reassure himself that he was not that monster and that was when he remembered, hadn't Stark offered him a drink?
So he croaked out the words, " I would have that drink now if it's all the same to you.".
And Stark, Stark grinned at him, not a ferocious thing, nothing manic, nothing hostile.
"Jarvis, shed the scales, would you?" he said, and the other Avengers balked at him, voices got raised and a calm voice suddenly spoke from the ceiling, "Certainly Sir." and then the Armor clicked and screeched at several places and just fell off the man.
That was when the unthinkable happened, Tony stepped forward to him, in front of him, still the winning grin on his face and stretched one hand out to him.
What was this, was this a trick?!
The other Avengers tried to grab him, to pull him back but panels in the floor opened and a machinery that looked a frightening lot like the one that had dismantled the Armor the first time.
"Hostile intent towards Mr. Stark is not tolerated in my vicinity." the calm voice of the ceiling spoke again and what was that being anyway? Had Stark woven a spirit into this tower?
His attention flinched back to the man himself as he spoke, "Come on, I'm sure you know what to do with an outstretched hand now that you're you?"
He felt his jaw slacken as he gaped up to the - the man who stood before him, and he heard the other Avengers calling out what Stark meant by that and warnings and in general, chaos, all held back by the gleaming elegant arms of metal that belonged to 'Jarvis'.
So he lifted his hand, unreasonably slow and Stark grabbed it, and pulled him up to his feet just to push him over to the plush and expensive looking sofa, make him sit and, Loki wanted to gape again, just like the majority of the group by now, turned his back to pour two glasses of an amber liquid. He emturned/em his emback/em?! emHe/em turned emhis/em back!
And just as Tony turned around and pressed the glass into his hand and sat onto the table right in front of Loki, and the metal arms of Jarvis slid back into the ground without a noise a loud voice bellowed from the entrance.
"Stark! What is the meaning of this?!" It was the man with the eye patch, Director Fury, and, oh how wonderful to see how his mortal didn't even flinch.
"The meaning is that Loki is back in control now." Tony stated as if it was the most obvious thing of all, and maybe it truly was to him but none of the others seemed to realise.
"Is he mind controlling him?" the question was directed to the other Avengers, and that was when Tony got up, standing nonchalant and relaxed between Loki and his Team, the back to the foe the face to the heroes, a glass in his hand, "Isn't it obvious? Loki got mind controlled, the Hulk knocked it out of him. Takes a bit more to concuss a god than some squishy humans."
But every one just looked at Stark as if he had lost his mind.
"Thor said it himself, his brother how he knew him was a thing of mischief and chaos. Now, emI/em know both by heart, and what he did here on earth was neither, it was just destruction-"
"And what is the difference?!" growled Captain America, and Loki wanted to scoff at the man and eagerly waited for the answer Tony would give, hoping that the man truly understood chaos.
"Cap, you're an artist, you should know! Chaos is creation!" and he saw Tony looking into those clueless, brainless faces that could not comprehend, "Chaos destroys one thing and makes place for something new, something better, something grander! And our favourite God of Chaos just destroyed so it made no sense, his speeches made no sense for chaos, it all didn't fit. He was like a puppet on strings, it was all too one-sided!"
Everyone just stared.
"Stark, have you lost your mind?" Barton asked, never letting go of the bow and arrow pointing at Loki, through Tony, but Stark just groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.
"Natasha, you are one of the most observant here, what was Loki's eye colour when he arrived through the portal, I know you saw the footage."
The woman frowned but answered simply, "Blue."
"And when he was in the Helicarrier?"
Her frown deepened, "Blue".
"And what was Barton's eye colour?"
Realization seemed to dawn on her, "Blue, the same blue, like the staff and the Tesseract."
"And what is his eye colour now?" Stark asked, almost softly and it sounded so odd, while he made a step aside.
The bald man stepped forward again, "And how pray tell would you have known that his eyes were blue and supposed to be green?!" he growled.
Wait, the meeting between him and Stark wasn't known? It hadn't been part of their plan to take him down?
"When I arrived at the tower he waited here for me. Took off the suit, offered a drink, and became target of mind control. And that was the first time when they changes, the moment the glowstick tapped the Reactor his eyes were green for a second, and another time after he threw me out of the window. Loki's strings got pulled but not by him." Tony looked at every single one of them, frustrated.
"How am I the only one to notice this?!" he almost yelled at them.
The Director groaned "Maybe because you are the only one of us who is just madly in love with chaos and drags it wherever you go, ever thought of that?"
In Love with chaos? That is how the man describes Stark? How intriguing.
"Who cares what Stark does!" bellowed Thor, "Brother, is it true! Have you been controlled by the Staff as well?"
Loki flinched at the word, brother, he was no brother of Thor, he was a Jotun! But now was no time to antagonize over that, so he answered, his voice slightly more angered than he intended.
"Yes. Thanos, the mad titan a being deep in space put the spell on me, after he pulled me out of the Void, I could only watch."
"Why did you not break it?!"
"How? I tried!"
"With your magic!" Thor bellowed back, and Loki snapped, stood up and yelled.
"It was locked away from me! Everything was locked away from me! I could touch emnothing/em except for-" oh by the Nine he did not intend to let that slip.
"Except for what." Fury snarled.
For a second his eyes snapped to Tony who looked at him curiously, back to the others who all now seemed to expect an answer, there was no way around. A lie could only drag him into a further mess, he could only hope that they wouldn't figure out who it was, a man like Tony Stark must feel insulted if anyone found out he worshipped a creature like emhim/em.
"The only thing outside of the cage that I could grasp was the worship of a single person." and Thor gasped and somebody made a confused noise.
The Director fixated Thor with his eye and made a face not unlike Odin when there was something he wasn't sure he understood, "What does that mean?"
Oh thank god it was to Thor to explain, the Aesir had more experience in that than him, much more.
So the God of Thunder explained how a God can feel the adoration of his worshippers, of his followers, how it does not make one stronger but more stable and suddenly Fury's head snapped back to Stark.
"Oh fuck it is you isn't it?!" and his mortal just grinned and shrugged, turning his head back to Loki.
And suddenly the tense energy in the room snapped, Captain America lifted a green piece of paper into the air. "Ten bucks it is."
Natasha grinned, "I go with that." and so did the Hulk, no, Banner and he even saw Barton lower his Bow, "So do I".
And with a sudden manic energy he felt the elegant, slick hot quicksilver dribble down his spine and flow into his ribs and his arms and every single bone was engulfed in that simmering, hot burning silver black sensation of emWorship/em, and that was when he knew that Tony, now worshipped him, not just the chaos, the element, but him and Loki as God, as - as what he was.
The God of Chaos.
But Thor of course, had to ruin the fun, "The probability of friend Stark being the one is-"
"You have no faith, Blondie" said Stark with a defiant grin on his face, his eyes gleaming and the silver black aura more visible than ever, "I was four when I stopped believing in order. Chaos is change, Chaos is evolution. I bet Stark Industries that I'm the reason You just pulled that face, Bambi."
Loki couldn't believe his eyes.
This man was incredible.
When Fury had said that Stark was in love with Chaos he was not joking, this was...
"Yes." he could only answer, his voice oddly hoarse and he couldn't tear his eyes of the man.