"It was very well done. I rewarded him for it, as he rightly deserved." Megatron smirks a little. "I'd love to play the game with you, and your daughter. With appropriate stakes, of course, and not the stakes I used to put up with Ravage."
He sighs. "I've just come to appreciate how much I need to be around people who know the scent of my demons. I may be older than you, but you've been working at controlling yours much longer than I have been. It's been...barely a year, maybe two? --time at that scale means almost nothing to me, it's moments, like this one, and eons, that matter. I want to be known, but I don't want to hurt anyone, any more. I was once in a field of flowers. There was one flower there for every life that was lost because of something I'd done, and the end of them all wasn't visible. I know I can't avoid causing pain, no-one can--but I don't want to do it on purpose ever again."
He shrugs a little cavalierly, as if trying to pretend what he ust said wasn't some sort of stupid confession.
"And yes, I want to learn about magic. I made one or two attempts at it with Ravage, during desperate times, to no avail. I want to know about things that can cause me and those I love harm; I want to know how to protect and defend them, and protect and defend myself so I can go on doing that. I don't like being ignorant of anything with strategic uses, or anything of importance. In fact, though I don't know at all what I want to do with the rest of my life...I know that I want to spend it learning. I started all this, all the madness, because they denied me that."
"I cannot tell you how pleased I would be to see her become a poet as well as a performer. Of all of them, she is the most attuned to my nature and abilities. She will be a mage some day, I think, and quite possibly a shapeshifter."
The talk of endless fields of flowers sobers him visibly. There is something that flickers in his face and eyes, a glimpse of a shattered soldier's thousand-yard stare. After a moment he says, "Your philosophy there matches mine. I am...not sure how many flowers I would have. Some of my memories are still missing and distorted."
He hesitates, lips parted, as if he's not sure whether he should elaborate, but the way he struggles to focus on Megatron's next words, regarding learning, which he would normally heartily encourage, tells him he needs to explain.
"There was a cult I fell in with," he says. "After being exiled from home. The Black Order. Their leader was called Thanos, the Mad Titan. It was his belief that the universe has too few resources for the life forms contained within it, and that to prevent an eventual apocalypse of death by starvation and dehydration, the one foolproof solution was to kill half of everything, everywhere."
"I had nowhere else to go, and they would not have allowed me to leave if I had tried, and so at first I played along, thinking it was impossible for him to act on his designs. But it wasn't impossible. The first planet I attended the Cull on was small; its inhabitants knew nothing of space travel or other worlds, and they had nothing beyond projectile weapons to defend themselves. It was...quick. And it was awful. And I was punished afterwards for not doing my part, because I froze."
"I think almost two billion souls must have died in that Cull alone."
Megatron's other hand takes Loki's hand, and his hands slide up to Loki's wrists, as if to tug him into his arms, but awaiting permission. He knows that horror all too well. And he's been the one to punish the ones who froze, more to his shame.
"I'm so sorry--"
He looks up, shaking his head. "I am really, sorry." And he is. Not just for Loki. But desperately sorry to people like Glit, and Thundercracker, and Soundwave, and all of the others he pushed well past their limits for cruelty. He wrote of going on past one's heart, but he shouldn't have ever been the one to take people's hearts and force them on past them.
"Don't worry," he says, though it sounds rather empty. "I've been that sort of charismatic leader, more to my shame. I know the signs. I won't fall in with anyone like that, I promise you. No. I want to learn from you, and from others like you. I would not study such a thing with anyone I did not trust."
And, after a moment, he settles.
"I would be willing to mentor your daughter on such a path, if she chose. Once you know me, of course, well enough to trust me with such a dear being."
Loki doesn't resist the touch to his wrists or even seem alarmed, but he does look a little confused by it. Thor has always been quick to embrace him, and so was Frigga, so he does know when comfort is being offered, but to his mind he's just made a dreadful confession of his own guilt, not a plea for reassurance.
He blinks at Megatron, further surprised by the message he seems to have taken from this confession, and after a moment he reaches up and pats his cheek. "At first glance, you reminded me of him, but not because of anything you've done to me. Just the silhouette. Broad shoulders, strong jaw...it took me a moment to adjust, but I do not mistake you for Thanos now."
"And he's dead in my world anyway, and in many others. Though he got to me first, and--that's not relevant. What I meant was that I have a lot of innocent blood on my hands, as well. I didn't ask to participate in the Culls, but I didn't stop them either, and when I visited Earth, I did terrible things as much on my own behalf as the Order's. That was when I was a monster. But it is a matter of some reassurance that they had to break me first."
After a moment, he leans lightly into Megatron's shoulder, recognizing the offer of touch, if somewhat awkward accepting it.
"I've been the warlord who expected his followers not to balk at doing horrible things," Megatron says almost airlessly, stroking his hand, "and I've always regretted it, but I've never regretted it more than I do, right now."
"You need not feel that way on my account," Loki's body temperature is a little lower than a human's would be, where he leans against him, a consequence of Jotun blood. "You've done nothing to me, and what I said before, stands. No judgment, not here."
"I thought perhaps it would be best to explain, since my mind started to wander. I am much improved, but I still bear scars."
"And I still stand unconquered." He glances up and takes in the expression on his face, then moves into a full embrace, perching on the arm of the chair he's in. "It's all right, truly."
"Here we are, unconquered," Megatron muses, holding him.
That sounds like the first line of a poem, and he considers running with it. But this is not a poem he wants to write on the fly; this is one he wants to put some thought into writing. It's not like he'd be writing it alone. The words are initially Loki's words; he just wants to see where they'll wander.
It would be so easy to kiss him; a stray thought, but one he's sorely tempted to feed and take in and shield from the cold. But even if that happens, this isn't the way he wants it to happen.
For here, for now, this is enough: that someone can truly know all the things he has done, and could do, and is capable of, and can still want to be where Loki is now.
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He sighs. "I've just come to appreciate how much I need to be around people who know the scent of my demons. I may be older than you, but you've been working at controlling yours much longer than I have been. It's been...barely a year, maybe two? --time at that scale means almost nothing to me, it's moments, like this one, and eons, that matter. I want to be known, but I don't want to hurt anyone, any more. I was once in a field of flowers. There was one flower there for every life that was lost because of something I'd done, and the end of them all wasn't visible. I know I can't avoid causing pain, no-one can--but I don't want to do it on purpose ever again."
He shrugs a little cavalierly, as if trying to pretend what he ust said wasn't some sort of stupid confession.
"And yes, I want to learn about magic. I made one or two attempts at it with Ravage, during desperate times, to no avail. I want to know about things that can cause me and those I love harm; I want to know how to protect and defend them, and protect and defend myself so I can go on doing that. I don't like being ignorant of anything with strategic uses, or anything of importance. In fact, though I don't know at all what I want to do with the rest of my life...I know that I want to spend it learning. I started all this, all the madness, because they denied me that."
no subject
The talk of endless fields of flowers sobers him visibly. There is something that flickers in his face and eyes, a glimpse of a shattered soldier's thousand-yard stare. After a moment he says, "Your philosophy there matches mine. I am...not sure how many flowers I would have. Some of my memories are still missing and distorted."
He hesitates, lips parted, as if he's not sure whether he should elaborate, but the way he struggles to focus on Megatron's next words, regarding learning, which he would normally heartily encourage, tells him he needs to explain.
"There was a cult I fell in with," he says. "After being exiled from home. The Black Order. Their leader was called Thanos, the Mad Titan. It was his belief that the universe has too few resources for the life forms contained within it, and that to prevent an eventual apocalypse of death by starvation and dehydration, the one foolproof solution was to kill half of everything, everywhere."
"I had nowhere else to go, and they would not have allowed me to leave if I had tried, and so at first I played along, thinking it was impossible for him to act on his designs. But it wasn't impossible. The first planet I attended the Cull on was small; its inhabitants knew nothing of space travel or other worlds, and they had nothing beyond projectile weapons to defend themselves. It was...quick. And it was awful. And I was punished afterwards for not doing my part, because I froze."
"I think almost two billion souls must have died in that Cull alone."
no subject
"I'm so sorry--"
He looks up, shaking his head. "I am really, sorry." And he is. Not just for Loki. But desperately sorry to people like Glit, and Thundercracker, and Soundwave, and all of the others he pushed well past their limits for cruelty. He wrote of going on past one's heart, but he shouldn't have ever been the one to take people's hearts and force them on past them.
"Don't worry," he says, though it sounds rather empty. "I've been that sort of charismatic leader, more to my shame. I know the signs. I won't fall in with anyone like that, I promise you. No. I want to learn from you, and from others like you. I would not study such a thing with anyone I did not trust."
And, after a moment, he settles.
"I would be willing to mentor your daughter on such a path, if she chose. Once you know me, of course, well enough to trust me with such a dear being."
no subject
He blinks at Megatron, further surprised by the message he seems to have taken from this confession, and after a moment he reaches up and pats his cheek. "At first glance, you reminded me of him, but not because of anything you've done to me. Just the silhouette. Broad shoulders, strong jaw...it took me a moment to adjust, but I do not mistake you for Thanos now."
"And he's dead in my world anyway, and in many others. Though he got to me first, and--that's not relevant. What I meant was that I have a lot of innocent blood on my hands, as well. I didn't ask to participate in the Culls, but I didn't stop them either, and when I visited Earth, I did terrible things as much on my own behalf as the Order's. That was when I was a monster. But it is a matter of some reassurance that they had to break me first."
After a moment, he leans lightly into Megatron's shoulder, recognizing the offer of touch, if somewhat awkward accepting it.
no subject
no subject
"I thought perhaps it would be best to explain, since my mind started to wander. I am much improved, but I still bear scars."
"And I still stand unconquered." He glances up and takes in the expression on his face, then moves into a full embrace, perching on the arm of the chair he's in. "It's all right, truly."
no subject
That sounds like the first line of a poem, and he considers running with it. But this is not a poem he wants to write on the fly; this is one he wants to put some thought into writing. It's not like he'd be writing it alone. The words are initially Loki's words; he just wants to see where they'll wander.
It would be so easy to kiss him; a stray thought, but one he's sorely tempted to feed and take in and shield from the cold. But even if that happens, this isn't the way he wants it to happen.
For here, for now, this is enough: that someone can truly know all the things he has done, and could do, and is capable of, and can still want to be where Loki is now.