Every city Tony had seen was more depressing than the last. Each new walled district crammed to the brim with human misery that he encountered convinced him it was the most depressing spot in the world. It was all in his head, there wasn't much difference between any of them, but the feeling had still persisted.

How ignorant he had been then. The slave processing center made all those miserable hellholes seem like slices of paradise. It was huge, sterile and unwelcoming, echoing with the cries of the hopeless. Tony felt numb as he was forced through its dark halls, felt like this was happening to someone else.

The first place in the vast building Tony had been dragged to was the showers. Which was simply a big tiled room, drains scattered on the floor. His clothes were stripped from him and he was pushed roughly against a wall. One of the Frost Giants approached with what looked like a hose, and Tony closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable. He grimaced as the freezing blast of water struck him, shivering. The cold seeped into his bones as every speck of dirt was washed from him. And then the water was gone, and he was being roughly dried. The only clothing he was given was a loincloth tied around his waist, green decorated with gold and black embroidery. That alone made him realize his new master was somebody special. On the occasion he had had to have the misfortune of seeing personal slaves in his life, their small amount of clothing had always been quite plain. Hooray for Tony.

As he was dragged out of the shower room and through the dismal halls, Tony saw other slaves. Some were naked, some were dressed in brief clothing like Tony, some were dirty and bruised, all looked miserable with deadened eyes. The few that still had life left in them stared at Tony in surprise, at his glowing chest. Several slaves had designs on their skin, either paint or tattoos, reminiscent of the markings of their masters. It was kind of strange to think that, on their home planet, Jotuns wore little more than slaves did, while on the warmer Earth they covered their bodies. To nearly nude slaves, their fully clothed masters just reminded them of their position. Maybe that had been the original reason for a race that didn't feel the cold fully dressing themselves.

His next destination was a room where slaves were being groomed. One was having his hair trimmed, another her face painted. Tony was forced onto a chair, and a female Jotun made an attempt to tame his hair, then trimmed his goatee. He was vaguely surprised they weren't just shaving him bare-faced, but apparently they wanted to keep his signature style. His eyes were lined with kohl, and just a bit of rouge applied to his cheeks. And then another Jotun joined her with bottles of what appeared to be black paint, and they started using him as their canvas. Like the other slaves he had seen, he was decorated with swirling designs. He was informed that it was a type of stain, that would fade after a few months but would not be wiped or washed away. He could only assume it was the markings of his new master's family, but despite the centuries of coexistence, humans had never been taught to read them. It took some time for them to finish, and Tony ended up mentally going over the schematics of a new gun, as if he would be able to get back to work once they were finished here.

He was taken to room after room. He was thoroughly inspected for imperfections or ailments, he was reminded of the duties of slaves – as if any human could ever forget – and of the horrible fate that awaited if he ever disobeyed. He was to do anything his master wanted without question, he was to clean house and prepare meals without being asked. He was to be available whenever his master wanted pleasure, and regardless of what they had done during the day he was to present himself naked in his master's bed at a certain time every night, to be dismissed if his master was not in the mood. It was during that long lecture of information that Tony was already well aware of that he found out his master was male, unless they simply said 'he' out of habit.

There was a little excitement in the middle of those lectures. Tony heard a ruckus from some distance away, shouting, scuffling, that soon came to an abrupt end. He found out later that a slave had tried to run. One of the Frost Giants had an amused expression when he casually informed Tony that gelded horses were better behaved, and the same applied to slaves as well.

Then it was back to the lessons. Tony was informed that his master was a very important Jotun, and so Tony would be frequently checked on, scrutinized, to make sure they hadn't made a mistake in choosing him as the lucky slave.

Tony knew that humans taken as personal slaves had shorter average lifespans than the non-slaves, he had read a time or two that it was possibly only fifty years. Even if he was starting his life of slavery later than most, maybe he would still only have to put up with this for a decade or so. It was something to ponder.

What turned out to be his final destination in the slave complex was the room where he was fitted for a collar. It was sleek and black, with a gold loop in front for a leash to be connected, which they did. Tony wasn't sure whether being led around on a leash was preferable to being bodily dragged.

He again felt detached, like this couldn't possibly be him on a leash. Not Tony Stark. They counted on him for his brilliant weapons, they would not do this to him. Slavery happened to other people. He pitied them, tried to help where he could, but it was not a fate that awaited him.

"Is he ready?" one of the Giants asked.

"Good enough for the runt," said another, and was quickly shushed by his comrades, all of them casting nervous looks around them.

Tony blinked in surprise, shaken out of his detachment. The runt? Did they mean the prince? That was the only runt Tony had ever heard of... Prince Loki, the only member of the royal family living full-time on Earth. It was hard to get a read on how the rest of the Jotuns truly felt about him. They spoke of him respectfully, at least around humans. But it was easy to see the scorn hidden beneath their pretty words. Even now, they told Tony that he was the lucky human, chosen as he was the only one deemed worthy of belonging to his special master. And then he was just 'good enough'.

The prince himself was an enigma. He had little to do with humans, and few outside the palace even knew what he looked like. He was supposed to be attractive, though Tony took that with a grain of salt, given what the average Jotun looked like. He had once overheard a few Giants speaking lustfully of him, but at the time Tony had figured they were speaking of another Loki. It was a common enough name – most royal names were – and surely nobody would speak of their prince that way.

There were rumors that he hated humans. There were rumors that he liked humans. All likely invented as reasons behind his lack of interest in consorting with them. Tony supposed he would be finding out the hard way which rumor was true soon enough.

And so they finally left the horrible slave compound behind. A woman was wailing as they left, and Tony tried to tune it out lest the sound haunt his nightmares.

There was a truck waiting for them outside, its windows darkened to hide the driver, the back filled to capacity with slaves. The Jotun dragging Tony still managed to shove him in with the others, slamming the door shut.

They stared at him. Tony looked away to avoid the miserable gazes. Nobody spoke, though there were plenty of whimpers and sobs. They were all freshly cleaned and made up like Tony, though that did not stop the stale tang of sweat that filled the truck. Fearing that somebody, at some point, would want to talk to him over the course of their journey, Tony closed his eyes and leaned against the side of the truck. At least he had been wedged into the side and had something to lean against besides another slave.

He slept. It was a light sleep, frequently interrupted by cries of slaves, bumps in the road, and the truck stopping every so often so that a slave could be removed, to be delivered to their new home. The restless sleep was filled with odd dreams that he could not remember upon waking, but left him feeling more tired.

Twice a day the truck came to a stop and all of the slaves were allowed off to attend to their needs, and to eat the bowls of gruel they were offered. Tony ate mechanically, not tasting anything, and unsure if that was from his shocked state or if the food really was that tasteless. A time or two one of the other slaves approached him while they were stopped, but he deftly avoided conversation.

It was several days at least before Tony was removed alone from the truck. He could have kept track if he had counted the number of stops, but he hadn't bothered. He was again briefly inspected, right there in the middle of the city, and his makeup reapplied.

The city around them was a typical Jotun city of tall, bleak buildings. The one they approached was enormous, a palace, seeming almost as large as an entire human district. A pair of Jotun guards stood outside the massive front door, one armed with a spear and the other with a gun Tony himself had designed for them. The guards eyed Tony as he was tugged past them, but said nothing.

The interior of the palace was nowhere near as bad as the intimidating outside implied. The palace was richly furnished, even just in the hallways, like no place Tony had ever seen before. Green was the dominant color along with the typical Jotun blue, and there was more gold than Tony had seen in his entire life.

There were also more Frost Giants in one place than he had seen in his life. Guards, servants, nobles, and goodness knew what else. And they all turned to watch Tony as he was led through the halls. Some stared in surprise, some whispered to their companions, some watched with open lust burning in their crimson eyes. Tony did his best to keep his eyes on the floor in front of him as he walked, ignoring everyone's stares.

It felt like hours before they reached the end of their journey, arriving at a door flanked by a pair of especially brawny guards. They opened the vast golden doors for the newcomers, and Tony was jerked inside without fanfare. He was shoved into a lushly decorated room, his leash violently tugged until he dropped to his knees. But curiosity got the better of him and he lifted his head to get a good look at the Jotun who would be making the rest of his life a living hell.

Tony blinked in surprise. The Jotun standing from his plush seat was... about the opposite of what he expected. When somebody said 'runt Jotun', he pictured maybe seven or eight feet tall. This one looked no taller than many human men. Taller than Tony, but a lot of men were. In fact, everything about him besides his blue, marked skin and red eyes looked human. Tony was starting to wonder if he wasn't so much 'runt' as he was 'half-breed', though he was certain there would be rumors if that had any possibility of truth. He was slender, he actually had hair, and he was rather pretty, if Tony were honest. He was dressed from head to toe in black leather and green silk. He also looked an unsettling combination of confused and pissed as he looked back and forth between Tony and the Jotuns.

"What is this?" the prince asked in a low voice, red eyes wide as he stared at them. Great, so Tony was a surprise gift. His master might not even want him, that would be fun.

The Frost Giant to Tony's left jerked on the leash again, tugging him upright. "This is Tony Stark-"

"I know who it is," the prince snapped, and didn't that just make Tony feel special. "Why is he here? Dressed like that?"

"He is for you, Prince Loki, a gift from your father."

His expression hardened ever so slightly at the mention of the king. "I see."

"He insists," the other said. When Tony glanced up at him, he'd swear the bastard was smirking. "He asked us to choose the most worthy human for you." Wow, Tony's ego just wasn't going to get a break... "But worry not, my prince. With us and everyone else in the palace keeping an eye on him, punishment will be swift if he steps out of line. He will be a good slave for you."

"Yes, thank you. You may go." Loki strode toward Tony as the two captors finally retreated, leaving them alone. "I knew this would happen one day."

Tony swallowed the casual inquiry that sprang to his lips. He was going to have to remind himself very frequently of his position... It would be a lot easier if the prince looked more like a typical Jotun. "Master?" He was proud of how smoothly he said it.

"I have never wanted a slave," he said bitterly. "Father is well aware of that. I knew he would eventually insist."

"I'm sorry," Tony said, for lack of anything else to say. Yeah, this was going to be great, a spoiled prince who hated slaves.

"I must send him a message."

And with that, the prince swept out of the room, leaving Tony alone. He stared after his new master in surprise. What did he do now? Letting out a deep breath, Tony sank back to his knees near the chair (throne?). There wasn't much to do beside wait for the bastard to return to make the rest of his life miserable.