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Chapter Text

The cold, stone walls of the dungeons in Asgard seemed to absorb all the warmth and light of the torchlights that flickered as Tony Stark walked cautiously through the narrow passage. The air was thick with the scent of old stone and magic, a far cry from the sterile, controlled environment of the Stark Tower.

Ahead, the silhouette of a familiar figure loomed behind the bars of a cell. Loki, God of Mischief, trickster of the Nine Realms, leaned against the far wall, his sharp eyes glimmering with an odd mix of amusement and resignation. His once composed attire now discarded, replaced by dirty rags and subtle glimpse of defeat in the eyes of the once glorious god. Tony stood a few steps away from the cell. He didn’t exactly want to be there, but the situation demanded it.

“Loki.” Tony started, his voice laced with irritation and a hint of desperation. Loki’s lips curled into a half-smile as he stood up straight, his gaze never leaving Tony. “To what do I owe the dubious honor of your presence, Stark? You certainly look pleased to see me” Tony didn’t humor the jibe. He stepped closer to the bars, his voice dropping slightly. “Listen, this isn’t some casual favor. We’ve got a serious situation on our hands.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, sensing the weight in Tony’s tone. He folded his arms across his chest, leaning closer to the bars with a condescendent smirk on his lips. “You really must be desperate if you came to me for help.” He said, his voice unserious, his tone mocking.

Tony looked him straight in the eyes, his general demeanour serious. Too serious for his liking. “We found a girl. Powerful, unpredictable. Dangerous. We are out of options and we need someone who understands power. Real power.” Loki listened with a straight face, trying to appear unamused but processing the information in his head carefully. “I’m not asking for your help because I want to, Loki. I’m asking because you’re the only one who might know how to deal with something like this.”

Loki’s grin widened, though it lacked any humor. He tilted his head slightly, as though studying Tony like an amusing puzzle. “You, Stark, have become quite the pragmatist. When did that happen?” Tony gave him a hard look. “Cut the crap, Loki. This isn’t a game.”

“Isn’t it?” Loki’s tone grew colder, his voice a low purr. “ You need help, and you come crawling to a god locked in chains. How pathetic.” Tony remained still, his eyes narrowing and his voice steady. “You can either help, or we’ll do it without you.” Tony’s tone was firm, secure. “Say goodbye to the crevice of redemption you could have had.”

Loki’s expression flickered for a moment, something almost like curiosity shining in his eyes. “What makes you think I want redemption, Stark? And why now? Some time ago you would have said I was far beyond that.”

“Because this is bigger,” Tony said, his voice barely above a whisper. “This girl? She’s not like anything we’ve ever seen before. She’s dangerous in ways that go beyond just power. We don’t know if she’s going to destroy everything we’ve built or if she’s just- broken.”

Loki’s eyes gleamed and, for a moment, there was a flicker of something more than amusement in his gaze. “Broken,” he whispered. “How charming. You’re afraid she might be like you?” He grinned, covering his own complex feelings with mockery. Tony’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t sure if Loki was toying with him or actually trying to get under his skin. “You don’t have to like it,” Tony shot back, “but I'm not asking for a lecture on personal traumas. I’m asking for answers.”

There was a long pause. Loki stepped back slightly, his posture shifting into something more thoughtful. “You do realize, of course, that I could easily just leave, right? No human power can keep me captive for long. Not even you, Stark.”

“I’m aware,” Tony said, his tone dry. “But unless you want to stay locked up here for the rest of your eternal life, you’ll help us.” There is a long pause, a moment of reflection for both of them. “This girl. Her powers, her mind. They’re far beyond our comprehension. She might even be from yours. It could tear the entire universe apart, and that is something even you can’t escape from.”

Loki tilted his head, clearly intrigued now. The mention of a power so great that even he might fear seemed to get his attention, though the mischievous edge never fully left his eyes. Loki mused, his voice quieter now. “If she truly is what you claim, Stark, then I suppose I have no choice but to entertain your little request. Not for you, of course, but for the girl. She may be… interesting.”

Tony didn’t trust Loki. He’d never trust Loki. But he knew the God of Mischief was right about one thing. That girl was an enigma. A magnificent one. Tony didn’t care what motives moved Loki to help them, he wanted answers, the ability to comprehend such exceptional power. And he’d have it. No matter the cost.

“Oh, Loki?” His playful tone was back, a smirk on his bearded face. “Your beloved brother gave us this.” He showed him a pair of cuffs, magic blockers. “You know, just to keep you from causing a scene.” Loki’s jaw tenses as he offers a forced smile to Tony, full of hatred.

Chapter Text

The sterile, controlled atmosphere of the Stark Tower couldn’t go unnoticed by the God of Mischief as Stark guided him through the high-tech filled corridors. As they walked, in complete silence, the sound of the innumerable security systems filling the tower hummed softly, breaking the tense setting around the group of men. The Avengers, or more specifically, Stark, had transformed the once luxurious penthouse, or at least part of it, into a fortress. State-of-the-art tech, reinforced walls, layer over layer of containment spells. “Just in case” Stark had said. 

The room in which the kid was imprisoned; sorry, held captive for her own safety and others’; was sealed, the door guarded by two armed agents. They could not see the girl yet, but the weight of her presence was heavy in the air. The inside of the room was not visible from the side they were located in, but something about the general setting was really unsettling. Loki felt restless, impatient to witness the immense potential Stark had told him about. The way the philanthropist had spoken of her, the power, as if she was less a person and more a living weapon, had piqued his curiosity beyond reason.

Tony stopped at a reinforced door, flicking through security protocols with a practiced hand. “Don’t get too close,” he warned, his voice uncharacteristically flat. “She’s... unpredictable.” That alone was enough to make Loki raise an eyebrow. When the final lock clicked open, Tony stepped aside, letting Loki move toward the thick pane of reinforced glass that served as the only barrier between the hallway and the containment room.

The moment Loki laid eyes on her, his breath caught. The room was stark white: walls, floor, ceiling… All sterile and devoid of comfort, save for a small bed in the corner and a few scattered crayons, broken and worn down to nubs. But none of that mattered.

Next to the bed, on the floor, sat a little girl. She couldn’t have been more than five years old. Her knees were pulled to her chest, tiny arms wrapped tightly around them. Tangled hair hung like a curtain around her face, and her wide, luminous eyes were fixed on the glass. On him. Not with curiosity. Not with fear of the unknown. With terror. Not the kind of terror one might feel facing a stranger, or even a god. No. This was a deep, primal fear. As if she had seen too much. As if her world had already ended, and she was waiting for it to happen again.

Loki’s mouth went dry.

“She’s just a child,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper. Something in him recoiled. At the sight of her, at the room, at himself for walking in expecting something monstrous. Tony crossed his arms beside him. “Yeah. That’s the problem.”

Loki didn’t look away. He couldn’t. Her skin shimmered faintly, like starlight under water, and the air around her seemed to tremble, as if reality itself hesitated to touch her. And though she didn’t move, Loki felt her presence curl around his mind, like a cold breath against the back of his neck.

“She’s more powerful than anything I’ve seen,” Tony continued, voice lower now. “The energy readings are off the charts. But it’s not just energy. She does things. Impossible things.”

Loki turned his head slightly, his gaze still locked on the child. “What happened to her?” Tony hesitated. “She was found in the middle of a crater. No survivors. No signs of a blast, just her. Crying. Covered in ash.” Loki’s expression darkened. For once, he was silent. He understood power. He understood fear. But there was something wrong here, something broken and raw, hidden behind that child's eyes. Not malevolence. Not madness. 

Just pain.

“She’s not a weapon,” Loki murmured. “She’s a wound that keeps bleeding.” 

At that moment, the girl’s eyes seemed to flash, a brief pulse of light crackling through her pupils, and the lights in the hallway flickered violently. The glass trembled. Loki didn’t move. He swallowed hard, gaze softening just slightly as he watched her flinch from her own power.

“She doesn’t know how to control it,” Tony said grimly. “That’s why I brought you here.”

Loki stood rooted before the glass, fists slowly clenching at his sides. The silence between him and Stark stretched taut, brittle and electric. "She's no older than a babe," he said, voice low and simmering. "And you keep her in this-" he motioned sharply at the sterile, barren room, "this cell, like a beast you've yet to train."

Tony folded his arms tighter, his jaw twitching. "It’s not ideal—"

"Ideal? " Loki snapped, turning on him now, his eyes glowing faintly with a dangerous light. "You call this not ideal ? This is a prison."

Tony held up a hand. "Loki-"

"No." His voice cracked like thunder, loud enough to startle even himself. He took a sharp breath, but the fury wouldn't settle. "You tell me she’s unstable. Powerful. Frightening, even. But all I see is a terrified child, surrounded by white walls and cold steel, and you— you —have the gall to speak of her like she’s a ticking bomb."

"Because she is," Stark growled. "You didn’t see what she did in Montana. We didn’t even get bodies back, Loki, just dust. She screams, and physics starts to unravel. You think I want her locked up like this? This is the only thing keeping people alive."

"And what of her life?" Loki demanded, stepping closer, voice low but vibrating with fury. "Do you think she chose to become whatever it is that’s inside her? Do you think she understands it? She's terrified. And you meet that fear with containment instead of compassion." Tony’s expression hardened, a line of guilt cracking through the mask. "I’m trying to keep everyone safe."

"No. You’re trying to keep your conscience clean while pretending you’ve done your best." Loki’s teeth bared slightly, a sneer creeping in. "But you haven’t even tried. Not really. She’s not a weapon to be guarded, she’s a child crying for help."

He turned to the glass again, where the girl was now watching them, her small fingers curled into her lap, her body trembling just barely. Loki saw the way she shrank at the sound of raised voices, how her eyes darted like she was searching for a place to run—but there was none. Not in this room. Not in this tower. "And now," he said, voice hoarse with restrained rage, "you ask me to teach her? What, Stark, how to suppress her nature like I was taught to? To lie about what she is until she believes she's the monster you already treat her as?"

The hallway crackled with tension. The lights flickered again, brighter this time. Loki exhaled sharply, tilting his head back. He was losing control. He knew it. But every second he looked at that girl: alone, imprisoned, afraid. With each second that passed the fire inside him roared louder. "You disgust me."

Tony flinched.

Loki stepped back from the glass and turned fully to Stark, his voice a blade drawn slowly. "She doesn’t need… this. She needs kindness. Someone who won't flinch when the room shakes. Who won’t lock the door and tell her it’s for her own good."

He pointed toward the observation panel. "Let me in. Or I swear to every realm I’ll tear this tower apart until you do."

Tony was silent for a long moment. Then:

"You’re not stable either, Loki."

A dry, bitter smile curled Loki’s lips. "Exactly."

The silence afterwards stretched, but finally, with a reluctant nod, Tony stepped aside, though his posture remained guarded. He wasn’t going to let his guard down. Loki entered the room, his eyes never leaving the girl as he moved toward her. She was still huddled against the wall, trembling uncontrollably. Her little chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, her small hands clenched tightly around her knees.

“Hey,” Loki’s voice was softer than anyone would’ve expected, his usual coldness replaced with something almost… gentle. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

The girl flinched at the sound of his voice, her eyes widening in fear. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked down frantically around the room, as if searching for something, anything, to cover herself, as if seeking protection. Loki’s gaze softened further, his eyes clouded with something Tony couldn't quite place. He crouched down, lowering himself to her level, careful not to move too quickly. He extended a hand towards her, though he made no attempt to touch her. Just offering. “It’s ok.” He whispered, his voice softer than he thought himself posible.

The toddler, trembling more violently now, looked into Loki’s eyes. She saw something in him that, for reasons none of them understood, made her stop crying for a moment. She sniffled, a hesitant breath escaping her lips, and then, in the tiniest voice, barely audible, she spoke. “Who are you?”

Loki froze and blinked, taken aback by the question. It wasn’t just the words, it was the way she asked. So small, so broken. She wasn’t asking for a name, no. She was asking for trust. She was asking for security. She was asking for safety .

Loki’s throat tightened. Something inside him shifted, something deep and painful that reminded him of his own childhood. He had seen how cruel the world could be; he had seen it through his own eyes, even being the one inflicting all that pain and terror. But never had he seen the world this way, not through the eyes of someone so innocent, so helpless. Filled with immense power and yet so powerless. He had never seen a soul so pure and yet so corrupted by forces beyond her control

Loki’s hand trembled, and for a second, he wasn’t the God of Mischief; he wasn’t the trickster or the villain. He was just someone who had once been broken too. He swallowed hard, his voice thick as he answered her. “I’m… I’m someone who understands what it’s like to be alone.”

The girl’s eyes filled with more tears, and this time, she didn’t shy away. She reached out hesitantly, still trembling, towards the hand Loki was still offering, grabbing two of his fingers in her tiny hand. For the first time in a long while, Loki didn’t hide behind the armor of his flamboyant persona and something inside him; something fragile, something he had thought dead, buried; cracked.

Chapter Text

The little girl kept holding onto Loki's fingers as if he was her anchor, a link to the real world she thought lost. So distant, so unreachable. Her eyes, so bright, so innocent , pierced through his skin like knives made of purity and fear. She was still trembling, it was not only noticeable by her hand in his, it was visible . She needed the contact so desperately she was willing to put herself in danger, risk her own integrity, just for the comfort of physical closeness.

Loki’s jaw clenched. His usual deflection wasn’t there. He wasn’t in control anymore. The thing he had feared his entire life, the thing he had hidden behind illusions and power, was now staring at him with the softest eyes he had seen in his millenia of existence. One thing came to his mind as he stared at the little girl in front of him. Compassion . Something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in centuries. Not for himself. Not for anyone. Until now.

“Stop,” Loki whispered, his voice unusually soft, almost a plea. “Stop crying.” The words didn’t come out the way he intended. They were more than an order, they were a desperate call. He saw himself in her, but he also saw her , her pain, her trepidation.

She wiped her tears messily with her free hand, sniffling softly, trying not to disturb the sterile atmosphere around them. Loki’s eyes softened at the sight.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” His voice was barely audible, just a mere breath leaving his lips, trying by all means to calm her down, even slightly so. The toddler lifted her head from behind her arm, looking at Loki with her impossibly big brown eyes. She looked startled, surprised even, by the question. Loki made a mental note to rip a couple nails from Stark’s fingers for not even having the decency of asking for the girl’s name. Time stretched between them as Loki waited for the response. He didn’t repeat himself, he didn’t pry. He just waited patiently for her as she hid behind her hair.

“Alina.” Her voice was soft when she finally spoke up. High pitched and a little unstable, probably due to a mix of lack of use and fear. Loki smiled at her.

“Alina.” He tried the name on his tongue, saying it as if it was a secret, something precious to keep to himself. “That’s such a beautiful name.” Loki's eyes warmed, a rare softness flickering behind the mischief that so often cloaked them.

There was a pause. Quiet. Alina peeked up at him from beneath a curtain of tangled, dusty hair. Her lip trembled, her tiny fingers clutching the fabric of her worn dress with her free hand. The one around Loki’s fingers still trembling.

"May I ask you something, little dove?" She didn’t answer, but her wide eyes met his, searching. "Just for us," he continued, voice low and calm, "would it be all right if I called you Ali? A special name. Not forever, just here. Just between you and me." Alina's brow furrowed slightly, unsure. Her mouth opened, but no sound came.

Loki tilted his head, his smile still gentle. "Only if you like it. Ali is like… a secret, cozy name. No one else would use it. A name for brave girls who talk to tricksters." He raised a brow, teasing lightly, though his voice never lost its warmth. 

"Ali…" she murmured, testing it. Then, looking at him more directly, she nodded, just once. Loki placed a hand over his heart in mocked ceremony. "Then it is settled.” He smiled. “Ali, it is. And I am very honored, indeed." She gave the tiniest hint of a smile, fragile, fleeting.

—

The next couple hours were quiet, slow, but tranquil. Alina would move around the room slowly or just sit looking at Loki. From time to time, the lights flickered and Alina winced. She’d look at Loki, waiting for a reprimand, a look of deception, or even worse. But that never came. He never flinched, not once. He smiled at her with softness, reassuring. Sometimes he’d whisper softly if she looked too altered, telling her it was ok and keeping up with the previous conversation they were having. He would ask her questions. Shallow, easy, but comforting. The type of questions you ask a kid, like her.

The door to the containment room slid closed with a hiss behind Loki once the girl finally fell asleep, hopefully a peaceful one. Exhaustion had finally won over the fear and her tiny frame curled up on the sterile mattress, still tense even in rest. Loki stood just outside the observation hall, staring through the reinforced glass. His reflection glared back at him, gaunt and unreadable. But beneath the calm exterior, something inside him was storming, boiling.

Tony was already pacing, fingers tapping his temple, his brain a whirlwind of equations and contingency plans. “I told you she’s unstable,” he said, as if trying to justify himself once again. “I’ve run scans. Whatever was done to her… It’s not just some fucked up mutation. Not ever magic. It’s a blend of both.” A pregnant silence filled the room. “Someone made her like this.”

Loki didn't turn to him right away as his eyes were still on the child, slightly more relaxed than he had seen him when he first arrived. “And so, naturally, you put her in a cage.” Tony stopped. “It’s not a cage, It’s containment.” 

Loki turned slowly and, for once, there was no smirk, no sharp retort. His voice came low, controlled, but dangerous. “She’s five years old, Stark.” His gaze remained hard, judgemental. “ Five .”

Tony’s brows drew together. “She blew out the lights in a three-block radius. She shredded a Quinjet engine with her mind. I told you I did not put her in there because I wanted to. I did it because I had to.” Loki took a step forward, his magic containment wristbands shining with the faint light of the room. “And yet, no blankets, no colours, no warmth. No one sits with her. No one ever speaks to her unless they’re poking at her like she’s some fucking cursed relic.” His voice grows stronger with irritation. Anger. “She’s terrified and all you see is damage control.” Tony’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. “You treat her like a bomb that hasn’t gone off yet,” Loki continued. “I’ve seen weapons, Stark. For Odin, I’ve been one.” He scoffed. Silence. “That girl?” His voice cracked, just barely, emotion threading through the venom. “She’s not a weapon. She’s a child who has been broken by people who see power and think only of control.” Loki’s eyes soften just slightly with something akin to sorrow. “She was made like this. She didn’t ask for it.”

Again, silence. “She’s dangerous.” Tony said quietly after a while. “So am I,” Loki snapped, eyes flashing. “So are you. So is the Hulk, so is your precious Romanoff, and yet here we are. Given rooms, missions, status. Care .” His voice was harsh but stable. He wanted Tony to understand. “She’s not dangerous because she wants to be. She’s dangerous because someone made her that way and now she’s terrified of her own breath." Tony’s defenses started to rise, but Loki didn’t let up. “I saw it in her eyes,” Loki said, his voice steady again, but softer. “She was looking for something. Anything. A face that didn’t flinch. A hand that didn’t pull away. Do you have any idea what it feels like not to be comforted when you’re afraid? To only be feared?” 

Tony looked away, ashamed, or maybe just exhausted. His hand came up to rub at his face. “We don’t know how to help her.” Loki stepped forward until he stood toe-to-toe with him. “Then learn. She deserves better than this. Better than you and me but if none of you can give it to her, then I will.” 

Tony’s eyes snapped back to his “You?” There was surprise in his gaze, maybe because of the words themselves, maybe because of the implication or maybe for the mere idea of the God of Mischief taking care of a broken soul willingly. “I know what it's like to be alone, to be othered. To be treated as a threat before anyone ever asked if I was afraid.” Loki’s eyes flicked to the glass again, to the small figure curled tightly under the sheets. “If that girl burns the world to the ground one day it’ll be because no one tried to understand the fire inside her or to help her do so, only to contain it.” His voice is now softer, careful. “And that’s on you. That’s on all of us.”

Tony was quiet for a long moment, then he finally let out a breath, the kind that signaled walls slowly lowering. “You think you can help her?” he asked, not with sarcasm, but with genuine uncertainty. “What, are you going to teach her magic?”

“If I must,” Loki replied. “Magic, control, breathing, fear. Whatever it takes.” His tone softened, but his resolve didn’t. “But first, I’ll give her what she’s never had: a choice.” Tony looked into Loki’s face and, for the first time, saw no manipulation there. Just raw, resolute truth.

“She stays here, it's safer.” Tony said after a beat. “But we do it right. No more observation cell, no more white walls and fucked up check-ups.” Loki gave the faintest nod, not looking at him. “It’ll start now.” He turned and walked back towards the door. Tony watched him go, silent, shaken. Not because he feared what Loki might do, but because, somehow, the God of Mischief had just shown more humanity than most of the Avengers ever had.

Chapter Text

Loki entered Alina’s room that night. Someone, probably Banner, had softened the room’s harsh white glow to something warmer, gentler. A small blanket with soft colours had replaced the cold, sterile sheet that was previously perched on the bed. A tray of untouched food sat on a nearby table, the apple juice barely sipped. Loki stepped into the room alone, the guards gone. Surprisingly, Stark hadn’t protested when Loki insisted they leave. No one was watching them. No more control, just the God of Mischief and a child who had broken more than anyone could comprehend. 

The girl was sitting upright on the edge of the bed, probably startled by the sudden intrusion. Awake, but barely. Her eyes tracked Loki as he entered, wide and unsure, but not as afraid as they had been earlier. Maybe because of his previous visit, maybe because of something else.

Loki stopped a few paced away. He said nothing at first. Then, carefully, he lowered himself into the floor, sitting cross-legged so he wasn’t towering over her. The wristbands shining softly as he settled. “I thought I’d come back,” he murmured, voice calm. “I’ve heard you don’t get many visitors.” She shook her head slowly, her eyes still fixed on him. “They don’t talk. Just look. Like I’m bad.” Her voice barely audible, a mere whisper.

He tilted his head with curiosity. “Are you?” She blinked at him, startled by the question. Her little brow furrowed, lips parting but no words coming out. The truth is, she didn’t know. She knew she had done bad things. Really bad. And they hurt her, so she must have done so much wrong if they treated her like that. That’s what she thought at least.

“I don’t think you are,” Loki continued before she could answer. “But I know what it’s like to wonder.” There was a pause. Alina fidgeted, clutching a corner of the blanket with her tiny, still trembling hands. After some silent minutes Alina spoke up “What’s your name?” She asks, her voice soft, as if talking too loudly could hurt someone. Loki smiled softly, “I’m Loki.” She looked at him carefully. “The bad guy.” Loki gave a soft, unexpected laugh, more a huff of breath than anything. “That’s one of the nicest things people call me, actually.”

She looked at his shining wristbands carefully. “Did they lock you up too?” His smile faltered, looking down at his shameful companions. “Yes, they did.” His voice careful and low. “Many times.”

“Because you’re dangerous?” She asked, her voice small. He hesitated, looking down at his hands still. “Because I was angry. And because I didn't know what else to be.” His voice was soft, calm. Longing for something that was long lost. 

Silence surrounded them both, letting the weight of Loki´s words settle in the room. Heavy, meaningful. “They made me… do things.” Alina broke the silence after a couple minutes, tears starting to prick at her eyes. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to.” Her plea broke in the middle due to emotion, remembering what those monsters had done to her. What they had made her do. Loki leaned forward, his voice even softer now, each word deliberate. “That’s not your fault.” She looked up at him, eyes glassy. “B-but I broke stuff.” Her little hand came up to her face, covering it partially. Maybe due to fear, maybe due to shame. “Pleople got scared. Even Mr. Stark.”

“Good,” Loki murmured, letting his rage flow out of himself for a moment. “They should be scared.” His voice even. “Not of you, but of what they did to you. Of the people who hurt you. Of what they created without thinking about what it would mean to live with it.” He tried to contain himself not to scare her further. Thinking about the little girl, scared, alone, abused. His mind wandered to memories he thought long gone, revolting feelings of rage and vengeance. But looking at her glassy eyes, her trembling hands covering her innocent face. It broke him in ways he hadn`t felt in a millennia. He didn't want to hurt, he didn't want to be feared anymore. He wanted to fix, to mend.

He extended his hand towards her, slowly, carefully. Not touching her, but offering. Letting her know she was the one to make the choice. That there was a choice now, that she was in control now. She hugged herself further, her eyes opening slightly with fear, but not of him. “What if I break again?” Loki’s expression didn’t change, but his voice dropped low, gentler than it had been in centuries. “Then I’ll be there. And I’ll help you put yourself back together.”

“Why?” The little word was so faint he barely missed it. Her eyes filled with more tears each second, to the point he thought the damn would break, and his heart with it. “Why wouldn't I, love?”.