Warning for attempted rape.
"Where do you head next?" the elderly slave Gloria asked, hemming a skirt on her crude sewing machine. They shared, but she used it the most often, claiming seniority. (The time Tony had teasingly pointed out that that should mean she was the best and fastest sewer and thus had the least need for the machine, she had responded with a rather impolite gesture.)
"I have some rooms to clean," Tony said, setting aside the pair of socks he had finished. "Same old, same old." He stood, making sure he had everything in the laundry basket. The end of a long piece of silk flopped out.
"Scarves," one of the women, Isabelle, scoffed. "What sort of Frost Giant wears scarves?"
"I haven't actually seen him wear one yet," Tony said, tucking the scarf back into the basket where it belonged. "Maybe he just collects them? I don't know..."
"What are you going to make us next?" Gloria asked with a teasing smile.
"A tank," Tony said with a perfectly straight face. "A big one. Nobody will ever fuck with the sewing ladies again. How does purple sound?"
The young Constance tossed a shirt at Tony. "Get lost. Go sex the prince into a coma to give you more time to build us presents."
Tony caught the shirt, tossing it aside with a laugh. He left them behind with goodbyes and promises for future presents, returning to Loki's rooms to deposit the laundry. They were empty. That was always a relief; Tony had never forgotten the promises that had been made to keep an eye on Tony and Loki, make sure he was being a good slave. Despite Loki's insistence that nobody would barge into his rooms unannounced, it remained a fear in the back of Tony's mind. Anywhere else, they acted the perfect master slave combo. In private, not so much, and that was dangerous.
He set the laundry basket down to work on later, and ventured back out.
The throne room had enough slaves dealing with it, so he moved on. Next was the conference room. Tony had a strange dislike for that particular room, though he honestly couldn't say why. It was large – as the majority of the palace was – housing a square table bearing the scars of many heated arguments. One wall was lined with windows, and another with bookshelves. Not even those interested Tony. They were the type of books whose very spines made him drowsy. The room also bore a sense of mustiness that no amount of cleaning could dispel.
Were Tony a Jotun, he would not spend his free time in the conference room. And yet there they were. A female held onto the leash of her slave girl while chatting with a male, and a pair of males Tony vaguely recognized were in another corner talking together. All glanced at Tony as he entered. Three promptly lost interest, though one of the males' eyes lingered. Tony ignored him.
One other cleaning slave was in the middle of the never-ending task of sweeping. Tony found the duster and set to work on the bookshelves, refusing to look up or acknowledge those watching him, though the sensation of eyes on him remained.
While he tried to tune out the nearby conversations, some of it managed to filter in. Nothing worth listening in on, though one Jotun mentioned the king, and Tony found himself wondering about the distant ruler he hoped to never meet.
Was he satisfied by the reports he was given about Tony? Did a pleased smile grace his royal ugly face when he was told about how miserable Loki was with a slave, always scowling, beating him whenever he stepped out of line? Of course, that mental image of the king was colored by Loki's hatred of him. For all Tony knew, Laufey just thought a slave would be a good learning experience for his son, like a first pet. Why he had been insistent on that pet being their best weapon developer, Tony would never know, but he was glad that...
Tony paused in his cleaning and let out a slow breath. And there it was. He was officially glad to be Loki's slave. He was not longing for his days of pseudo freedom in his own home. He was, at that very moment, practically naked and painted like a Jotun, dusting books, bored out of his mind, with Jotuns eyeing him like he was a tasty feast. And he didn't care. Because he liked his master.
Well, it wasn't the end of the world. And he had learned from experience that it was not a good idea to let his mind wander when it came to Loki, or he could very well be left in a state that his seamstress friends liked to point out with big grins his meager clothing would not conceal. No mind wandering about Loki in public. Tony resumed his task, frowning at the tops of the books and wondering when the last time a slave had taken a duster to them.
Tony remembered being told that Loki's father did visit on occasion. He wondered how often that happened. He had never asked, loathe to bring up a subject that usually dampened Loki's mood. Hopefully it was only once every few centuries or so.
Once the bookshelves were as clean as they were going to get, Tony set the duster aside and looked to see what was next. He did a startled double take when he realized the room was down to only one other occupant. How long had he taken on the books? The slave had apparently finished his sweeping and moved on to a different room, most of the Jotuns gone to... wherever. Now it was only that tall, hot-eyed male that had spent an uncomfortable amount of time staring at Tony. Geirr, he remembered. Their eyes locked for a fleeting second before Tony looked down, properly subservient.
He moved over to a window and pretended to inspect it, as if discovering grime that had not been there a moment earlier, but he knew it was too late. Geirr had shown an interest in him, and now they were alone. Tony had known all along it was only a matter of time before they no longer cared if they were allowed to touch their prince's property or not. They would have to respect their prince before they could respect his rules. Tony did not look up, even as he heard the heavy footsteps, sensed the Giant moving closer.
"You have been good for our prince?" Geirr rumbled, less than a foot from Tony.
"Of course." Tony kept his voice quiet and deferential. He almost wanted to laugh, as he did every time a Jotun feigned concern for Loki.
Geirr pressed closer, leaving Tony painfully aware that he was only wearing a loincloth. "Truly? How often does he have you, I wonder?"
"That is my master's business," Tony said, trying to sound reluctant, like he really did want to tell Geirr all the juicy details but was forbidden. "You will have to ask him."
"You present yourself in his bed every night like a good slave, I'm sure." His voice had lowered to a deep purr. He reached out, tracing his fingers over Tony's skin, over the fading painted marks. Tony's skin broke out in goosebumps at the light caress, and he felt the same twisting burn in his gut he always felt at the unwanted touch of a Jotun. "Anyplace else? Probably not, he is not the exhibitionist type..." Geirr let out a low chuckle. "Oh. Or does he make you take him? Is that why you will not speak of it?"
Tony swallowed thickly. That was a dangerous line of thinking. "You should not speak of your prince like that." As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. Mostly.
Geirr's grip on him tightened painfully. "Perhaps you are the one that should watch your tongue, lest somebody remove it for you." His hand traveled inevitably downward, rubbing over the meager loincloth. With a shudder, Tony let his eyes squeeze shut.
It was a familiar road. It had been a long time since a Jotun had bothered to grope him, normally they just took him then and there. But he had managed dozens of times in the past, he could manage again. There had been times, while he hid in Loki's room reading, that he had entertained the possibility that his days of being a Jotun plaything were over. But he had never truly believed it. The groping hand slipped beneath the thin layer of fabric, stroking him, and Geirr's other hand flipped up the loincloth's backside, exposing him. Tony let out a deep, resigned breath, relaxing his body in preparation of what was to come.
"Tony!"
He automatically jerked away from Geirr, eyes snapping open. The anger in his master's voice sent his heart racing. Tony watched Loki furiously stride toward him, sending glances toward Geirr that he hoped conveyed This wasn't my idea, Master, I swear!
"Is this your idea of being right back?" Loki snarled.
It took a moment for Tony to find his voice. "I..." And then, abruptly, he relaxed. He had never made any such promise to Loki. He was being rescued. "I'm sorry, Master." Geirr was watching, so Tony did not let the terror leave his eyes.
Tony was reminded of just how lucky he was that his master had little reason to be genuinely angry with him. It was a terrifying sight. "Get back to my room. Now!"
Tony gave Geirr what he hoped was an apologetic look as he scurried from the room, Loki at his heels. They kept up the charade of shamed slave and angry master for the entire trip to their rooms, as usual ignoring the snickers they left in their wake.
Pretense was dropped once the door was on the latch. Loki's furious expression fell back into neutral, and Tony gave him a grateful smile. "Good timing," he said. "Thank you. Did you know what was going on?"
"I was informed," Loki said softly, and Tony flinched back when he saw something dark in his eyes. "You are all right?"
"Me?" Tony blinked. Clearly Loki could see that Tony had been rescued before anything happened. "I'm fine."
"He touched you." His lips pressed tightly together. It was quickly becoming apparent that Loki was holding back a great deal of rage. "He tried to-"
"I know." Tony realized he was actually kind of touched by his master's fury, unnecessary as it was. He stepped closer and boldly placed a hand on his arm. "It's fine. Don't worry."
Loki's eyes flicked down to Tony's hand, then back to his face. "Are you... trying to comfort me?"
Tony jerked his hand away like Loki was a stove. "I'm sorry, Master. You looked upset."
Loki just stared at him, with an expression that made Tony want to check a mirror to make sure a second head wasn't growing out of his neck. "I'm upset? What about you?"
"Me?" Tony realized he was gaping like a fish and snapped his jaw shut. "Nothing happened." He was completely baffled. Loki had been around humans his entire life, surely he knew what their lives entailed? "That's being human. That's what we put up with all the time. You just have to... learn to live with it." He let his smile return, to show that everything was okay. "I'd call a near-miss a happy occasion."
Tony's hope that he had diffused the situation died a little with every long second Loki just stared at him. It was almost a struggle to not squirm under the horrified scrutiny. Tony wondered what else he could say to placate his master, but just as he opened his mouth, Loki turned and walked out of the room with long strides.
Tony could only stare after him, feeling completely lost. "What did I do this time?" he asked the empty room. And how much trouble was he going to be in when his master returned?