With a Glorious Defeat

{LokixReader}

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I...was lost.
I...was taken down, beaten, despised...
I could do nothing but hang my head while everyone looked at me in disgust or pity. Shame was what I had put myself through. Humiliation.
A disgrace, a failure...
A monster...

They could not contain me.
Me, Loki.
A god who does what he wants.
A monster does what he wants.
A prison cell? Hah!
What do they think of me? A fool?
It was easy to escape.

They did not know.
No one knew of my escapades.
After my little performance, it seems that everyone in Midgard knew of me.
I hid myself all too often in the shadows as if I was back at home...only...I knew of no one here.
But that was better than knowing, and being ignored just the same...
Is it not?

I traveled all over the world, searching for some place that could satisfy me.
But they were watching.
Everyone and no one was watching me suffer.
Whether I was in or out of that horrible cell.
They never cared.
They always lied to me.
Do I care?
Of course I do not.
I am simply a monster to them. A puny monster that could not be killed because...I was not worth it!
A stolen relic waiting to be of use to his king and heir.
What am I, truly?

I found myself in a dirty, shabby world one day.
Filth everywhere, not like where I had my encounter with the Avengers.
It was in a much worse state.
I wanted to die.
Die here in a dirty hole to rot?
I deserved it, did I not? Father? Brother?
You wish me gone, do you not..?
Will it be better if I was never there?
My anger and thirst for revenge never brought me anything.
But I never regretted my actions, oh no.
What is the point though?
Of ruling a world of mere mortals?
Of ruling a weak and pathetic planet with humans that have no power whatsoever?
Just to make me happy?
Hah!
The idea was idiotic.
Suffering was nice, but it did not make me happy.
Nothing did.
It would be better if I just vanished.
I do not want this anymore.

You saw me and screamed, or 'squealed' as they say?
You said that...there are many more out there.
People who are like me, to a certain extent.
People who want to be with me, love me.
Love..?
That word has not been told to me for such a long time.
I asked, "Who can love someone like me?"
And she said that many did.
Many, many mortals.
They were more idiotic than I had thought.

You took care of me, talked to me.
You went to an extent that I never had asked for.
It reminded me of Thor, but I shudder to think about him.
It...hurt too much.

You told me of your world, of your kind.
You told me of many things, of my stories.
Apparently, they were known here...
The thousands of years of agony I had gone through.
Tiny things started to bother me.
Little things started to...fascinate me.
And I grew more and more accustomed to this change, I actually...enjoyed...it...

Daily activities were tedious and boring.
Sometimes I wanted to just stir some chaos.
Such things were in a much smaller scale, though, as if I did too much, they would notice.
They would break the dream.
This fragile, still illusion that I was a being, not a mere item that could be thrown around by his master's whim.
A stolen relic...
Sometimes I would imagine what it was like if it were different in Asgard.
I knew that they never would be.

I did not understand 'birthdays'.
What was the point of celebrating?
That you were alive for how long?
I have been alive...for so long...
Yet...I thank you, for being alive.
I guess that I should celebrate with you...
For you have brought me out of this darkness...
This darkness that I thought could never be lifted from me.
These days have been...nice.
Thank you.
And...
I love you.