Subject to fate just this once.
Fate was often such a horrid thing. A small thin, fragmented string of thoughts, threaded into the knots of time. An exsisting presence in the atmosphere of any world, intagible, yet calimed to be felt. Subjecting to such an unspoken law: driven, broken, and made entitled to it, just because it was written in the stars, was an awful justification. Such things, are the making of an inconvinient monster named Fate. Even worse, it transcends into a beast that destines a tragedy. All the beginnings to a devastating end. Funny, so it seems, that one must trade, sacrifice, and balance such monstorsity, in exchange for another's happiness. A series of unfair, unfortunate events, in return for a limited, sweet, serenade amongst a vast, painful, limitless timeline.
Such Fate was driven to a god. A misunderstood, malevolent, mischievious god. But a god none the less, in all forms, it seems such irony, is mocking. But of course, this god is rightfully deserved of this mocking, in other's eyes, for he is indeed a grim character. Yet it was not his fault, of what he has become, because fate had long ago planted atrocious events in his timeline, that soon sprouted out his vigorous revenge. One must suffer, for another's happiness. They all must suffer, to redeem his happiness. Subjected to cruelty, to suffering, condemned into a shadow his whole exsistence was frowned upon by the god, to rebel and to repel, were the only ways to make his own destiny. There was only once, when this god allowed fate to bound him in its thick threads, and lead him into the arms of a man of iron. In all its shades, the experience was bittersweet, profound, dejecting, painful, and amorous.
Best of all was the shade painted by amorous, bright red and vivid, lively and impacting. But it was more than a shade, it was more than half of the whole, it was practically everything. It was bright lights, dark rooms, and comfort. It was understanding and support. It was the limited sweet, serenade.
Amorous came with bright, brown eyes. Sparkling with intellegence even in dim light, shining with arrogance and cynicism, penetrating like the blinding, bright sun, with curiousity and cunning. Yet, the bright, beautiful eyes -upon further inspection- were shaded and dulled by it's unknown tortures, and self destructive tastes. Upon looking at those eyes closely, more sincerity was reflected upon the god, who returned as much back, beyond the mischievious glare. Amourous came, with a quirk of thin, stern lips, often the beautiful stetching of pink, delicate skin. It came with sly sarcastic smiles, full out blown grins, and kissess. Best of all were the kissess, passionate and strong, short and gentle, vicious and demanding, they were all great. But most of all, the best kissess were the long, slow, profound ones, the ones that searched and destroyed all weakness and doubt the ones that repaired and rearranged. The ones taken, hidden in the dark, from the man of iron's teamates, and overall from the world. Amorous came with many brilliant, delightful things, like rough, calloused, hands, short muscular legs, scarred tan skin, scratchy thin stubble, and plenty more.
Bittersweet was the first layer of paint, small and limited. It came with his imprisonment on earth, to his re-capturing and re-taking. It was short and simple, and the few words that were shared between Loki and the man of iron, at that time, seemed petty. This man of iron seemed arrogant, sarcastic, intellegent and cold, much like him, except he was on a different side. It was only until then, when he was back in Asgard that he wondered about this man, only out of sheer curiousity. This man was quite intriguing, that Loki often found himself wanting to pursue him, question him, dissect him, destroy him. So he escaped, only to amuse himself once more. The beginnings of their 'reunion' oftenly ended in scars, and damage. Then like a slowly dying flame, retreated into stark taunting and mocking affection. Yet, it was all out of sheer curiousity, but the man of iron, was also a curious being who enjoyed holding death's hand at times, so he amused himself aswell, being self-indulgent as he is. He too, sought out this god, to threaten and to taunt and to dissect.
Soon enough, this bittersweet shade was over powered by profoundness. The deep understanding of this man and this god. Both so simillar, both so different, both relented by fate's slap. It should have been seen light years away, but so busy were these two men battling, that they did not take a breath away, to look at each other's equally looming faces. And the moment they did, the man of iron was scarred and bleeding, standing tall and stern, shoulders taught and tense, labored beathing, mask ajar, revealing a determined stormed face. While Loki too, took similar visage, save for the lack of scars on his porcelain skin, and in the moment, the only noise errupting was their breath, harsh and enraged. Standing in the silence as equals, and as they both looked in one another's eyes, they saw the same suffering and torment of the past. It struck them like the god's over powering brother's hammer and their eyes slightly widened. They had stood like that, waiting, realizing, both in shock, and finally, the god broke the trance, and peacefully retreated.
It wasn't until months after that the man of iron sought Loki. For reasons different then battle. Their, relation became a strong friendship. Amongst the mocking taunts, and harsh criticisms between the god and man, there was sincerity that neither could have found elsewhere.
Through it all there was an aching dejection, after all, fate is such a horrid thing. Both man and god knew the danger in their relationship. Both knew there was no happy ending, in the haze of the moment it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered.
It was the pain after, that left both Loki and Tony a pitiful sight, but only to those who could really see. After all, both of them wanted different things, they were on different sides, one sought out power and revenge, the other sought redemption. It was evident all along.
But it was worth it all, the god thought after the departure. And most often he would smile wistfully, because the thing they had was something to be cherished, something to be remembered. But he will only let fate lead him once, and that was once. If their paths were to cross again, he has no idea what he would do. Nothing too drastic of course, because he loved the man of iron.
It was love. Twisted, tormented love, but love none the less.
Sometimes an exasperated laugh emits from the god and a twisted up smile curves his lips, fate is truly, such an awful, monster.
hope you guys liked it. please R&R