Author's note: Hmm, Loki wasn't in a very good mood last time, so let's see if it will improve in this chapter or not…
He's sitting at one of the bay windows, in a slightly twisted and not entirely comfortable position that leaves his nose almost touching the glass, the fingertips pressed against the transparent material leaving smudgy prints. The pane is chilly, but it doesn't bother him. It might be a poor substitute, but at least it's a tiny, imagined taste of the outside.
He pretends that the cold against his fingers is the chill of the breeze fluttering on the other side of his prison wall, caressing his skin with cool evening air, a hint of refreshing dew in its touch.
Leaning his head backwards, he takes a deep breath, so drawn into his little fantasy that he almost feels disappointed when it turns out to be filled with the same room-tempered inside air he's been breathing since coming here. The ventilation of Tony's tower might leave little to desire, but it still feels as if his lungs keep regurgitating the same stale air again and again. Though if he closes his eyes he can for a brief moment almost imagine it; that he's standing on a field beneath the open sky, unrestricted by walls, the horizon a blurry line in the distance.
He sits like that for a while, his eyelids closed shut, loathe to open his eyes again and let the reality of his situation wash over him.
He longs to go outside. If only to taste a tiny sliver of the freedom that hasn't been his in far too long. To get a respite from the long stint of imprisonment that started at the ungentle hands of SHIELD following his failure to conquer Midgard and continued with the damp dungeons and even more brutal guards in Asgard, and that has now come full circle as he has been returned to Midgard yet again, handed over to Tony Stark. Passed around, changing owners like tattered hand me-downs or a toy gifted to a younger sibling by an older one having outgrown its charms. The thought is too depressing to consider for very long.
Seeing the sky ought to be a welcome improvement after the glass bubble that was his cell during his stay at SHIELD's headquarters and then the underground dungeons of Asgard, neither of which came equipped with windows to the outside. As the days of his captivity melded into a blur, he longed to gaze at the sky again, if only for a brief moment, like how a man dying of thirst would desperately wish for a drink of water.
However, now he wonders if this isn't even crueller, dangling it in front of him like a precious treasure forever out of his reach. Sentenced to watch from afar, contained within the walls of his prison. He can't even open the window to feel the air brushing his skin, because every time he tries, thinking that maybe this time will be different, that thrice-damned computer will gleefully inform that Mr Stark's orders are for the windows and doors to remain closed.
Perhaps he shouldn't complain. Perhaps it should be enough not being abused, beaten or starved, being spared most of the hardships that usually constitute a slave's life, even free from having to perform hard and back-breaking labour. Perhaps he shouldn't be greedy and wish for even more, already being in a situation that most any slave in Asgard would envy him for, but he can't help it.
Because even slaves in Asgard run errands outside, work outside, are allowed outside. Despite everything, they are at least let out, ever-present watching eyes and the threat of severe punishment deemed enough deterrents to keep them from running off. They are not kept locked up like him all day, their usefulness to valuable to be wasted like that.
Of course, his own usefulness is marginal at best and there is no reason for Tony to let him out when he can be securely stowed away like this, the world safe from whatever the man suspects he might still be able to do in this lamentable state of his.
His mind whimsically conjures a little fantasy of him sneaking out of the tower, as impossible as it would be, going for a little stroll in the sunshine. No walls surrounding him as far as his eyes can see, nothing to stop or hold him as he walks on. Of course, it's naught but a childish fancy; even if he were to get out of here, he has nowhere to go. To the world outside, he is an enemy, and he has no friends or allies here. Nor does he have any magic or powers to protect himself, like a wolf having had its fangs and claws pulled out and turned into a harmless lap dog at its master's beck and call.
Besides, any endeavours to leave the tower would obviously be noticed and thwarted by Jarvis, who would immediately report his doings back to his creator, effectively landing Loki in a heap of trouble. Because Tony would no doubt consider that an escape attempt, and whatever freedoms and leeway the man has granted him until now would no doubt be revoked in an instant, his current circumstances being turned into something considerably less favourable.
He sighs. At least he has the freedom of the tower, as opposed to being locked up in his room all day, only to be brought out for whatever tasks that Tony wants him to take care of.
At that, his thoughts take a turn back to Asgard, where escaping slaves are more often than not executed when caught. And most are, few runaways ever managing a successful escape. Those that aren't executed are often clapped into heavy chains and shackles to prevent similar attempts in the future, in the unlikely case their subsequent punishment after their recapture isn't enough to dissuade them. There is no indulgence or tolerance for escaping slaves, the only offence considered more serious for a slave being raising a hand against his master.
Some slaves are wearing chains anyway, having been deemed too unreliable to be allowed the privilege of going without them. His wrists chafe in phantom discomfort at the thought; he had to wear shackles too during his stay in the dungeons, as if the stone walls and heavy locks and attentive guards weren't enough to keep him confined. He got too well acquainted with them to ever want to have his freedom restricted like that again, the movement of his limbs encumbered like those of a chained animal.
Something is telling him that Tony might perhaps not put him in chains if he were ever to try to leave the tower, but locked up in his room, yes, definitely. Then the man would be free from having to worry about further incidents of the kind, having his slave stowed away in a safe and secure place.
Still, the thought is too alluring to let go of just yet, so he plays around with the thought of somehow being able to evade the extensive security systems Tony has in place, passing unseen under the vigilant eye of Jarvis, Tony never finding out a thing. Not really escaping, because that is obviously impossible for someone with nowhere to go or to hide, but venturing outside for a while, returning later without his absence having been noticed.
But it's a pointless fantasy, of course. There's no way he could ever get out of here undetected. Or even detected, as Jarvis would no doubt instigate a full lock-down of the tower before he even got as much as a toe across the doorsill. Without his magic, there is no way for him to make it out of the house.
Besides, there's always Heimdall, who might be turning his gaze to Midgard at any time. Though, most likely, the Watchman has more important things to bother with than watching a fallen god of mischief lounge around in a mortal's tower. He's not a danger anymore, having been rendered harmless, courtesy of the little chains around his wrists. There are far more pressing potential threats to Asgard, both within the realm and outside of it, to keep an eye out for. Loki, for all intents and purposes, is no longer a concern of Asgard.
The knowledge stings; who will even remember him in a few years' time as anything more than a criminal that got gifted to a mortal? No doubt, he's already forgotten, the only one still bothering being Heimdall who will dutifully continue to keep sporadic watch, to make sure Loki doesn't break the stipulated conditions of his slavery.
His fingertips are starting to tingle from the icy chill of the window glass, but he doesn't remove them just yet. Because this is as close to that beckoning outside as he will ever get in the foreseeable future, separated from it by a mere inch of transparent glass. Though, for all its unattainable-ness, it might as well have been a stone wall an arm's length thick. There's no way he'll get out of here, not in his current magic-deprived, powerless state.
It's not going to make him any happier, wishing for things that can't happen. He knows that, and yet he can't help himself.
So he presses his fingers a little harder against the glass, once more closing his eyes, imagining the walls around him fading and disappearing like smoke in the evening breeze.
The new beta-electro-transformer he's been working on is coming along quite nicely. Luckily, he was able to salvage some parts from the first one that got snapped into pieces during that little incident with Loki in his workshop, so at least he didn't have to start all over from scratch.
The memory of that day is still painful and disturbing, but there's no use crying over spilled milk. What is done is done, and at least the god is aware now that his former expectations have no base in reality and that he can expect a life here that doesn't piss all over the tenants of the UN Declaration of Human Rights and the Geneva Convention and whatever other important documents important people have penned concerning stuff like that.
He fastens another circuit board to the slowly developing transformer on the bench, the little click as it slips into place oddly satisfying.
And he has to admit that Loki has been remarkably well-behaved so far, surprisingly acquiescent and compliant for someone once equipped with world-conquering ambitions. A little nagging voice of doubt can't help but wonder whether it's a show the god is putting on for his benefit, to lull him into a false sense of security before… doing something. He's not sure what someone in Loki's position could possibly do, but he is the god of deceit and lies and whatnot, so if he's planning something, chances are that Tony might not notice much before it's too late.
Well, perhaps he'd do well to be a bit more attentive as far as Loki is concerned from now on.
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