Okay, guys, I'm really sorry for the delay, but this chapter took forever and then it just got longer and longer. Honestly, I'm not content with how it turned out, but I hope you like it!
"Anthony, darling-dear, it's time to go."
Tony whirled around with a yelp and jumped a step back into the open hallway. Freyja stood on the spot that he had occupied just before, flanked by two white-clad guards, and presented a smug smile.
"Sweet baby Jesus, what the fuck?", the inventor swore. "Didn't your mum teach you not to sneak up on people with weak hearts?" He aimed for anger and annoyance instead of showing the panic that was quickly taking over. What was she doing here? And where the hell had Loki disappearde to? He was supposed to be here, this wasn't going to end well... Stalling, he told himself. That's all I can do right now. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong," he said as calmly and nonchalantly as possible, "but I don't think that you're supposed to be here. I think you should be out there," he gestured towards the throne room with his cuffed hands, "panicking with the rest. Backstage is just for VIPs."
"Considering that Asgard has just been invaded by Frost Giants," the goddess mused, "you do seem surprisingly unfazed." Her pale eyes seemed to see right behind all of Tony's defences.
"News flash, I'm not from here. I really couldn't care less. Also, I don't even know what Frost Giants are, so it's sort of difficult to be afraid of them," the inventor responded. "But now that you're mentioning it, so do you. Not surprised? Not at all?"
"Oh, a bit, certainly," Freyja answered lightly. "Honestly though, I did not expect Loki to go down without a fight."
Speak of the devil, it's about time that you show up here, Tony thought nervously, but tried his best to not let it show as he asked with feigned astonishment: "You think Loki did that? With the Frost-things, I mean?"
The goddess responded together with one of her laughs, cold and cutting as a glass shard: "Oh, you are golden. Are you trying to convince me that he did not tell you about his plans? For some reason, I can hardly believe that."
"I feel like I'm repeating myself," Tony retorted, "but I don't even know what a Frost Giant is, much less how Loki would've gotten them here while he stood down there in front of half of Asgard. I'm not sure where you misunderstood that, but if you want to hit Loki where it hurts, then I'm the wrong place to start. I'm a slave, for heaven's sake, do you expect him to get upset over that?"
He thought of Freyja's last visit, of the crystal glasses on the table bursting into pieces, of Loki breaking into a tirade of insults, of the prince's assurances that he had planned everything. Well, Tony did begin to doubt that last part, because he was seriously running out of things to say to stall Freyja.
"Let me tell you something," the goddess began. "Loki Odinson has never chosen a personal slave for himself before. Actually, he rejected those offered to him and insisted he could take care of himself and would not need anybody to constantly follow and keep an eye on him. He has never bought a slave before – that is, none until you came. To break a habit that is centuries old, I do believe that there must be something special about you."
Tony swallowed. There was no really decent comeback to that unless he wanted to tell Freyja about the arc reactor, which was something he was definitely not willing to do. After a beat of silence, he pointed out: "There still is a contract which you're probably breaking right now."
"Darling, I planned and led an ambush against a prince of Asgard, do you honestly believe that a verbal contract would concern me?" She motioned for the two guards to step forward and Tony began to twist the shackles as sneakily as possible to activate his little fail-safe, which should cause the chain to break in about... right now. Except that it didn't.
"The- the queen of Asgard was there while you sealed that contract," he pointed out, taking a careful step backwards.
"Oh," Freyja breathed, covering her mouth with a delicate, pale hand. "Oh dear. And now? What is she going to do about this?"
The inventor began to pull at the chain more vehemently, he had crafted the things himself, there was a flaw in them, the chain was going to break, it had to break, he knew it would, if he just found the right angle... He glanced up at the two men approaching him and took a step backwards for every step that they got closer, retreating until his back was touched by the golden curtains on the other end of the hallway. They billowed up around him and confused him for long enough for the two guards to take hold of his upper arms and haul him back over to Freyja.
"Loki is going to murder you," Tony snarled, kicking out and struggling against the men's grasp. "If you don't put me the fuck down, I swear that you're not gonna live to regret it!" Speaking of Loki, why was he still not here yet?
"Of course," the goddess answered sweetly. "Let's see about that, shall we?" She extended a hand to brush it over the inventor's cheek. In the spur of the moment, Tony jerked his head around and bit down on her thumb. Hard. Freyja screeched and pulled her hand out from between Tony's teeth with a sudden movement, causing bits of skin to come off. The engineer spat it out with a disgusted grimace, right at the goddess' feet, and then raised his head to glare at her.
He had half-expected the slap that followed, but it still made his ears ring. Well, she did have a mean swing, he'd give her that.
"I am going to enjoy this," she hissed and whipped out a piece of chalk, kneeling down to begin drawing runes onto the floor around them.
Tony raised his eyebrows and bit back a snarky comment for his own good. Loki had teleported them from another planet back to Asgard without using those methods. Admittedly, that had been the most uncomfortable teleportation that Tony had ever participated in and he had nearly puked all over Asgard's fancy golden floors afterwards, but still, seeing Freyja on her knees with that pristine white dress around her, scribbling symbols, brought him a quiet feeling of satisfaction.
Still, if she managed to get him out of here, he was in trouble. There had to be something he could do, something to alert somebody else... well, there was always the obvious solution, wasn't there? He could just try to scream – but by now, the commotion in the throne room had died down, it was dead silent apart from the scratching of Freyja's chalk on the marble. There was nobody here who would hear him, the heavy golden walls would ensure that. Not an option, then.
If he could somehow free himself from his captors, he could try to run, but the likelihood of him breaking that iron grip on his arms with his hands cuffed (and why didn't the fucking fail-safe work) was disturbingly close to zero.
He had no idea what to do.
Swallowing nervously, he watched as Freyja finished drawing the circle and runes around them, pale on the marble floor, but apparently enough for her purposes. Briefly, Tony considered stepping on the chalk lines and erasing them, but according to what Loki had taught him, magical symbols where to be taken seriously. If he damaged them, he might be ripped apart by the magic during the teleportation – Freyja and her guards as well, but that wasn't worth it, not really.
He took a deep breath and decided that if he was ever going to believe in God – the Christian one, the almighty one – this was a good point to start. Right now, a miracle would come in pretty handy. Special emphasis on right now.
Freyja dusted her hands off and smoothed her white skirts out as she stood up inside of the circle. She grinned at Tony with a glint in her eyes that gave him a feeling like ice creeping up his back, causing an unpleasant shudder. He covered it up with a headshake and remarked, without thinking about it: "I'm aware that I'm good-looking, but didn't you have something to do beside staring at me?" Don't fucking provoke her, you idiot! "Just saying, it's getting creepy."
"We are not leaving alone," Freyja told him calmly, although she seemed to be impatient herself. Tony watched as her gaze kept darting towards the various entrances. Well, she was probably breaking a lot of laws with this – so why wasn't anyone here yet?! This place was always full of people, why couldn't anyone be here right now? Murphy's fucking law, that's what it was. A palace full of guards and patrols and everything, just not when they'd be useful for once in their stupid lives.
"Oh, party guests? Giving someone a lift home? Waiting for the snacks?", the engineer quipped, still twisting the chains between his hands, although there was no more determination in his struggle. His mind was elsewhere – a plan B, or, if he took all the plans Loki had been supposed to have to prevent this into consideration, possibly a plan X or Y. Or any plan at all. That would be good right now. A plan that worked out.
When Freyja didn't answer, just smiled that unnerving little smile of hers, Tony lapsed into silence, turning ideas over in his head and discarding them as quickly as they came. Freyja was waiting for something, someone, and apparently it was somebody who was important enough to stall her escape. Briefly, hope flickered up in the inventor: Maybe Loki didn't fail his plan, but he had known that she'd bring an entourage and stopped them before they could come here so she couldn't leave?
Apparently, that wasn't what had happened either. Fuck, Loki, you were supposed to have a backup-plan! Or ten. Or enough to prevent this from going the way it is right now, he cursed to himself as he looked up at the tall ash-blond man who entered the antechamber with a satisfied smile on his features that looked disturbingly similar to Freyja's.
"They are in the vaults, all three of them," the man announced, brushing some errand strands out of his face with one hand. He was wearing a white suit that matched Freyja's dress and made him look eerily pale, together with his light hair colour, and his eyes had the same piercing blue colour as those of the goddess. "No-one will be here for quite a while."
"Shall we, then?", Freyja demanded impatiently and gestured towards the chalk circle.
"Of course, dear," the man said.
Tony looked from him to Freyja and back, drawing his conclusions, and piped up: "So you're the brother she's sleeping with, yeah? And this whole mess," he gestures towards the chalk circle on the floor, Freyja, the guards and the room in general, "is happening because you can neither come out nor keep it a secret properly, did I get that right?"
The man's gaze turned icily cold as turned to glare at Tony and responded: "I do not believe we've met."
The inventor flashed him a fake smile that was all teeth. "Indeed not." Indeed not? He was spending too much time among the Shakespearians, he was beginning to sound like them, god help him. Yeah, god help me. One god in particular, actually. About damn time you show up here, Lokes. "Tony Stark, I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but it's really not. You didn't answer my question though. You're the brother Freyja is fucking?" The two visibly flinched and Tony rolled his eyes. "Seriously, guys? If you're that obvious, how is it even possible that it took Loki to point that out to the court?"
"Hold your tongue!", Freyr finally hissed. Tony had been running out of things to say, anyway. "If you, too, believe in the lies that Loki has spread," he continued, stepping forward with cold anger in his eyes, "I can understand why he would keep you. All liars need their audiences after all, don't they, Anthony?"
"Anthony? Really?", Tony repeated with a pointed eye-roll. "What's up with all you aliens? Is it, like, physically impossible for you to call me by my name?" Subtly avoiding the topic here. Very subtly.
"Can we gag him, please?", Freyr demanded. The smug smile from before had vanished, now he just looked pissed off. Yeah, Tony seemed to have a talent for that sort of thing.
"Soon," the godess promised. "Now, get inside the circle, I do not wish to stay here any longer. Loki created a wonderful distraction himself, but we should not try our luck." He nodded and joined them in the circle. Now, they were all standing in a distance from about a foot apart from each other.
Tony looked around briefly. This might be his last chance to escape before Freyja did... whatever she did with that ridiculous chalk circle, so he reeled backwards, used the grip of the guards on his arms to push himself upwards and pulled his knees to his chest. With all the force his position allowed, he kicked Freyr, who stood opposite from him, in the chest, causing the god to stumble backwards and out of the circle. Then, he rammed his elbows into the guards' kidneys and twisted out of the surprised men's grasp and tackled Freyja out of the way before he ran towards the exit.
He managed about half of the way before a blow to the back of his head made him stagger, which gave one of his pursuers the chance to grab him again.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!", he swore, trying to kick out, but since the man was standing behind him, actually hitting him proved to be difficult. Had he not been about a foot taller than Tony, he would've tried to bash his nose in with the back of his head, but that didn't work now, either. His face flushed with humiliation and anger, Tony was dragged back towards the circle, where the second guard took hold of his other arm again. Fucking handcuffs and fucking not-functioning fail-safe. "Can't you guys just talk like adults instead of... this?"
"It's a bit late for that now, isn't it?", Freyja asked with an air of amusement. She gestured for the guards to stand inside the circle impatiently and walked around it once, critically eyeing the runes and symbols to see if Tony had managed to smudge anything. He really hoped that he hadn't, because dying during a failed teleportation wasn't exactly on his to-do-list for the day.
When she was satisfied, the goddess stepped into the chalk circle herself and began to chant quietly, raising her hands and her brows furrowed in concentration. Hadn't he been as anxious as he was, Tony would have rolled his eyes at her. Loki never needed to bother with all that fuss she was making. It didn't even look impressive, the chalk didn't glow, there were no floating symbols in the air or anything, their surroundings just sort of blurred and...
...Tony screamed.
Well, he thought he did, but he couldn't be sure; he wasn't sure of anything right now. Teleporting with Loki had been unpleasant when the distances were long, but this hurt. It felt like he was being compressed and shoved through a tunnel that wasn't nearly big enough for someone his size, it pressed down on his head and ears, causing a shrill ring in them, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly out of fear something would happen to them otherwise.
He didn't notice the fog around him lifting until Freyja's voice cut through the air like a knife: "What is that thing?!" The inventor forced his eyes open and blinked a few times until he only saw one version of the goddess when he raised his head. He was gasping for air, now that his lungs didn't feel like they were being crushed anymore, and hung limply in the guards' grip.
"Wha' is wha'?", he managed to wheeze out, trying to get his breathing under control. Absent-mindedly, he noticed that there was blood running from his nose.
"This!", she hissed, jabbing a finger at the reactor forcefully. Tony cringed and flinched away with a pained moan. "It is interfering with my magic!"
"Sorry, doll," he responded, "should've thought of that beforehand. I wasn't exactly prepared for interplanetary travelling."
She glared at him with blazing blue eyes, but he noticed that she looked shaken, too. Paler than before and slightly swaying. That clumsy teleportation seemed to have taken its toll on her.
"Bring him down until I decide otherwise," she snapped at the guards and turned towards her brother as she announced: "I shall rest now."
"Night, princess," Tony called after her while he was dragged down the corridor in the opposite direction. He took some deep, steadying breaths through his mouth while he stumbled along with his guards, trying to wipe the blood from his nose off of his face, and felt his heartbeat slowing from its thunderous racing from before. Jesus, Freyja could have killed him with that inept stupid teleportation spell.
After not even two minutes of walking through increasingly dark and moist hallways, he was shoved into a small, square cell without windows. He swallowed – he hated narrow spaces, and this looked extremely uncomfortable.
The door was slammed behind him, he heard a key being turned and the fading sound of footsteps, and then he was alone. He swallowed, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence, and carefully reached out with his hands until he touched a wall, which he leaned on and slid to the floor, cuffed hands in front of his chest, knees pulled up so he was as small as possible. It was dark in here, completely black. He couldn't stand the darkness. He had never had a problem with it in Asgard – sure, it got darker at night, but never to the point of an utter absence of light like in this stony little prison. There was always the golden glow from the city shining in through the window, stars and the two moons, there were torches in the hallways, and sometimes the green glow of Loki's magic when they stayed up late in the workshop. Never darkness.
This here? This was horrible. It was crushing, like a physical weight, and reminded him of the way that the sterile white lights on the slave ship had shut off as soon as the doors closed, leaving him in complete blackness in the ridiculously cramped room, or of the unbearably hot desert planet that he'd once been bought on, where he had been starved for days in the hot, narrow space of something that couldn't have been bigger than a closet, or of a heavy blindfold over his eyes...
His breaths echoed from the walls, having increased in speed as soon as the door closed and locked out every trace of light. He was alone and there was no-one coming for him here. Desperately trying not to panic, he told himself: Loki is going to come for me, nothing will happen, I'm fine. I'm completely fine. I'm going to be saved, I'm...
I'm in a dark room and there are people outside who are looking forward to having their way with me while nobody is here to do anything about it, just the way it was back then, just like...
He fisted his hands in his hair and pulled to distract himself from the memories about to assault him, but that definitely was the wrong thing to do it because
someone is pulling his head back by his hair and he can hear their voice in his ear, asking whether he is ready to fulfil whatever task they posed for him. He can't even remember what it was anymore, but that's not the point. In response, he spits the blood that has pooled in his mouth into the person's face. The reward is a stab of pain in his abdomen, probably caused by a knee, and he doubles over, but is pulled back upwards by his hair with a force that feels like it is going to rip his scalp and
that wasn't happening, he was fine, he was alone, there was no reason to panic, but then there was
a scream, his scream, he realizes after some seconds. His body is convulsing with shocks and – yes, they have great technology on this planet, he remembers, but all he ever sees of it is this thing that's electrolysing him right now. His mind feels hazy, clear thoughts overshadowed by pain and fake nerve signals caused by the electricity running through his body. He's escaped, he remembers, desperately trying to hold on to that thought, he's gotten out of his owner's residence, he just needs to run now, but his body won't listen
but that didn't matter, he was here, nothing would happen, and he cursed quietly: "Fuck that, I'm better than this, I'm..."
alone and it's dark. Although he's curled up on the floor, he feels dizzy and nauseous. He has no idea how long he's gone without food now, that's something new – before, the food has been disgusting and not regularly given to him, but now, there's nothing at all. He has no idea that hunger could hurt so excruciatingly. To distract himself, he has started to speak to the empty room, but hearing his own voice cracked and raspy doesn't make anything any better.
"Oh for god's sake, this isn't happening, stop making a fuss, you coward!", he snapped at himself, digging his fingernails into his palms. He was alone. No-one was here. Nothing was going to happen as long as the door didn't open –
but he needs the door to open because he can't get out otherwise, he's trapped inside here with this thing that he refuses to call a person, it can't even speak – at least not in a way that he understands. What he does understand, is that the thing has something knife-like and is in no good mood. He raises his hand to the cut that runs from his cheekbone to his upper lip and is sure to scar, but right now, he has bigger problems.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the images flooding his head, but it just made it worse. The darkness in the room didn't just take away any chance of distraction, it also triggered more memories and it was getting hard to tell himself that they were just illusions.
Blindfolded. He's blindfolded and he can't see anything, but he till knows where his captor is because he can hear how the thin, wooden cane is slapped into his owner's palm repeatedly. Tony's arms are chained up over his head, spread widely, and he's barely standing on his tiptoes. He clenches his fists and jaw, he won't give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing him scared. No way.
The first blow hits between his shoulder blades and Tony hisses through gritted teeth. He manages to stay quiet for the second and third hit although they hurt like fuck, but the fourth strikes across the small of his back and he cries out in pain and surprise. His knees give in, putting his weight onto his arms and therefore the sprained shoulder he has gotten himself the day before, causing a pained moan. It prompts a satisfied chuckle from his captor, followed by three quick hits to the same spot. Tony used to think that he could get used to the pain, but it only multiplies with each hit.
"Ready to relent yet?", he hears from somewhere in front of him and heaves for air, although he feels a stab of pain every time his ribcage expands – from the lashes on his back that seem to be ripped open again with every single breath he takes, and from the reactor casing that is still alien to his body.
When he's sure that he can speak again, he replies distinctly: "Fuck you."
The next blow strikes him across the face, splitting his lip and leaving an angry, burning streak across his cheek. Gasping for air, he lets his head fall back and is suddenly grateful for the blindfold hiding the tears of pain welling up in his eyes. His ears are ringing and he can feel his pulse throbbing in every single one of his injuries.
After a while, he doesn't even try to suppress his cries anymore, he just wants it all to stop. He can't speak up though – he can't admit defeat, he can't let himself be beaten, he can't admit defeat.
Time passes, an amount of it that he can't pinpoint, but suddenly, the hits stop. He needs some moments to realize it because his whole back, his chest, his face – everything feels like it's on fire. Through the hammering of his pulse in his ears, he hears his captor's bored voice: "Clean him up."
There's the sloshing sound of water and Tony smells salt, his mind not yet comprehending what that means before the bucket is splashed onto his back and he screams, even as he finally, finally passes out.
He was hyperventilating. If he was lucky, he'd choke before Freyja got here. Vehemently shaking his head, he tried to ban those thoughts, thinking of the library, of the workshop, of Loki – kissing Loki, yes, that was good – but in the darkness, his mind kept assaulting him with memories, memories of
saltwater, he can still feel the saltwater burning in his wounds when he wakes up. He can't have been out for very long, then, and
and oh God, he knew where this memory was going, he couldn't live through this again. He tried to press his hands onto his ears like that would help, but the cuffs prevented it and so he just shook his head rapidly and tried to remember something, anything that wasn't
a hand trailing down his back, making him wince every time it brushes over one of the bloody lashes or presses onto the swollen skin in-between them
He shook his head again, pulled at his cuffs, what the fuck is wrong with this fucking fail-safe, he wasn't going back there. He wasn't. This had been his last owner before Loki came around, and after this incident, he had played the obedient slave for almost two days before politely asking for a razor blade to shave himself. The wish had been granted, he had been so good after all, and he had smiled and bowed before he attempted to slit his captor's throat with the knife. The memory was disgustingly satisfying, but it still didn't stop him from hearing his own whimpers of
"oh God no, stop it, please, I can't..." Suddenly, there is a body flush against his back and hands splayed out over his chest. Tony doesn't even have the strength to cry out anymore, his only reaction to the pressure is a pained moan that turns into a high-pitched whimper as his owner rakes his nails, no, claws, down the inventor's chest and re-opens the wounds that the cane has ripped before.
The sensation of an almost painfully rough tongue lapping along a gash on his shoulder alarms him and he shakes his head weakly, trying to squirm away from the touch, as his owner's claws wander lower and realization dawns on him when he feels the hands sliding across his abdomen and lower and... "Oh god," he chokes out past the dry lump in his throat, "no, please don't, stop it, I-" A hand is clamped over his mouth and
Tony yanked the collar of his tunic down, partly revealing the reactor, why hadn't he thought of that sooner, so its bright blue light illuminated the cell. He nearly sobbed in relief and blinked for a moment to adjust to the new-found light. It didn't do much to actually chase the darkness away, but it was enough to keep the memories at bay because he could focus on other things now. Like, uh, counting the cracks in the walls. Well, anything was better than thinking about that. It wasn't like the light suddenly made his panic disappear, but it gave him something else to think about.
By the time the door to the cell opened, the engineer's breathing had an almost normal speed again. It took him a moment to understand that it wasn't Loki stepping in and he hastily pulled the tunic back into place, but even that couldn't keep him from feeling relieved. As long as he didn't have to endure his memories any longer, he'd take on anyone.
Breathing in deeply as if the light from outside had brought fresh air with it (which, just for the record, it clearly hadn't), he tensed and waited for the two men who had entered to step up to him. Finally, he had something to focus his panicked adrenaline on. In a last, half-hearted attempt to get the fail-safe mechanism to work, he twisted one of his hands in one direction, the other one to the other, further and further until the chain got caught between them and –
– snapped.
Tony blinked and stared down at his hands, saw the ends of the broken chain dangle between his hands, and before he could think, he exclaimed: "Well, fucking finally!" Then, he looked up at the two brutes coming his way. Chances were good that they hadn't noticed his little advantage, so he quickly continued: "It was about time you got here, I thought she'd forgotten about me. That'd be rude, wouldn't it?" He just hoped that they were stupid enough to miss the fact that he hadn't been talking to them at first. Since there was no sign of alarm from either of them, he supposed that they really were.
When one of them crouched down, Tony pulled his leg to his chest and delivered a forceful kick right into the guy's nuts. Loki had taught him to fight to win, not to fight fair. The soldier collapsed with a keening sound and the inventor rolled to the side to dodge the other one pouncing on him. With a well-practised movement (thanks, Loki), he got to his feet and raised his arms in front of himself. He was still shaking and was surprised he had managed to knock out even one of the two, but it was all worth being pulled out of his panic. This was nothing against it.
He surged forward, aiming a punch at the soldier, but the man caught his fist. Thrown off balance, Tony tried to headbutt him to break his nose. He barely saw his opponent raise his armoured hand in front of his face, but when he did, his forehead had already slammed into the metal glove.
Groaning, he tumbled backwards and was caught by a hand closing around the back of his neck. His vision was blurred and he felt something warm trickle down over his eyebrow. Still, he tried to kick out and felt his foot hit something, followed by a pained grunt. Never let anyone say that he went down without a fight.
It wasn't of much use, though, as he was dragged forward roughly in a way that made his already painfully throbbing head spin. He blinked and tried to wipe the blood from his face with the back of his hand, but ended up smearing it even more as he stumbled along in the guard's grip. The guy didn't even turn around to have a look at his companion on the ground. Great work climate they have here, Tony thought sarcastically.
When the adrenaline numbed the pain in his forehead at least partly, he made another attempt at defying his guard, ducking down to kick the man's legs out from under him, but it was condemned by the sheer weight of his opponent. As a mortal, you apparently weren't very well off without the element of surprise. The only reaction Tony got was an unwilling grunt and a hard tug on his neck.
"Talkative much, are we?", he muttered sourly and stumbled along. Maybe he should have waited with showing his cards until they reached Freyja, he'd have gotten a chance to break her neck then. But it wasn't like he had expected the fail-safe to... well, fail like that. If it had worked, he would possibly not have ended up here in the first place.
Hurry up, Loki, get me out of here...
They ascended some stairs and found themselves in a tidier, cleaner level of the building (castle? Palace?), the walls made of white marble and barely showing any other colours. Well, apparently, white was in Vanaheim what gold was in Asgard. It was just as annoying after only two minutes, causing the engineer headaches with its brightness.
He tried to breathe in and out deeply to calm himself. If he was going to face the twincest-couple, he'd at least deny them the satisfaction of seeing him terrified. Bloodied and in (broken) handcuffs was more than enough for that greedy pair of creepy siblings.
Despite that, he couldn't help but feel his nerves flutter as he was pushed into one of the rooms without any sort of preamble. The guard stayed outside, slamming the door shut behind Tony, which left the inventor to take in his surroundings. Like most of the place, the walls were made of cold, white stone, but the large room was decorated with a table, some armchairs, bookshelves out of light brown wood, and big windows with white curtains. Had this been another situation, he would probably have found the place sort of cosy, even though the colour scheme was a bit plain.
Freyja was comfortably seated in one of the armchairs and looked Tony up and down unashamedly, stopping at the wound on his forehead and the broken shackles.
"Why am I even surprised?", she asked with an air of exasperation when she saw the cuffs, gesturing towards the chair opposite her. "Go on, take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. We have time."
Tony hesitated. Her calmness was unnerving, she looked far too confident for someone who had just challenged Loki, no less. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he responded: "Thanks, but I'm fine standing." Because that puts a lot more distance between us. "So, where's your better half? Oh, don't look at me like that, don't be jealous. I'm not into guys. I won't –"
"Desist your comments," she hissed, interrupting him, "or I shall cut your tongue out and feed it to you."
"Whoa there," the inventor soothed with his hands in the air as he took a small step backwards, "I like that where it is, thanks." He bit his lip to prevent himself from uttering any of the remarks that bubbled up in his throat. This was the worst moment to anger her, really, so he tried to distract her from the topic. "And what do we do now?"
"We wait," she answered, once again pointing towards the chair. "Because we both know that Loki is going to turn up here sooner or later."
"And you can't just ask him for a date, you need to kidnap someone," Tony muttered drily while he carefully made his way towards the chair. "Why can't you just meet up normally? Why do I have to get involved in this?"
"Because Loki would never come here without an escort if it were not for someone he loves, and kidnapping Thor would have been much more complicated," Freyja responded without hesitation.
The inventor froze in his steps for a second and then quickly shook his head and cleared his throat. "First of all, don't you go throwing that L-word around. Loki doesn't love me, I... I don't love Loki, and you're making assumptions here." He carefully sat down in the chair opposite the goddess. "Secondly, why wouldn't he come with an escort? As far as I know, this here counts as theft or something." Referring to himself as something that could be stolen like a pretty little bracelet made him cringe internally, but she didn't have to know that.
She didn't even deign his first statement with an answer as she answered: "Of course he shan't bring anyone. Loki may be a liar, but he is not stupid. He knows he would not take you out with him alive if he did."
Tony flinched and grimaced at the casualness with which she spoke, but then again, she'd said that Loki would take him out of here alive if he didn't march up with an army or something. That meant there was still hope, right? As calmly as he could, he replied: "Glad we got that sorted out. Very reassuring, really. So I'm just the bait to get Loki here again? It is getting old, you know. I heard that you shouldn't use the same trick twice, he could be prepared this time."
"And what, pray tell me, would he do if he was prepared?", the goddess asked sweetly.
"Well, I wouldn't know, would I? I'm not Loki, after all. But I think you know him longer than I do, he'll have a plan. And that, honey, means that you're in trouble." He smirked, more confidently than he actually was, and leaned back. "There might still be time to stop this, you know? If he's still in the vault like your brother said and you just return me now, Loki might not even notice I was gone."
Freyja answered with a very un-lady-like snort and shook her head. "Yes, you surely just fell down some stairs and hit your head, didn't you," she deadpanned. "Are you trying to threaten me?" Without waiting for a response, she stood up and advanced towards the inventor. He absently noted that she had changed into a simpler dress that allowed her more room to move, like she expected to need that later.
"Me? Threatening? Never," he replied nervously and scrambled off the armchair to stand behind it, putting it between himself and the goddess. "What are you doing?"
"Well, we will need something for Loki to see when he arrives, don't we?", she asked sweetly.
Tony paled and shook his head, instantly assuming a defensive stance behind the armchair. Hastily, he responded: "Oh, I think we're just fine. I'm already practically covered in blood, I think that'll suffice for your little show, won't it?" As if to underline his point, he ran his tongue over his upper lip that still tasted salty and metallic from the now dried blood that had flown from his nose before.
"I remember now why I wanted to gag you," the goddess murmured and pulled a stripe of leather out of the pockets of her dress. Tony bit back a curse. This wouldn't have happened back on Earth – dresses didn't have pockets there, and the amount of crazy revenge-seeking goddesses was much smaller.
"Oh, don't go there," he warned, stepping around the armchair when she was about to reach him. "Seriously."
"Will you stop moving!", she hissed, rounding the armchair faster.
"Are you honestly asking me to just stand here and let you have your way?", the engineer mocked.
"I am not asking, I am ordering!", Freyja snapped.
"Seems to be working well for you. I can do this all day, just so you know."
"For Norn's sake," she muttered under her breath, and suddenly, the ground disappeared under Tony's feet as he was lifted into the air.
"Whoa there, Lord Vader," he uttered breathlessly, flailing uselessly to find something to hold on to, and added for good measure: "Levitation is for beginners!"
"What do you know about magic," the goddess snapped, terminating the spell while Tony was two feet over the ground. He, not having expected gravity to claim him again so suddenly, stumbled when his feet met the ground. It gave Freyja the opportunity she had needed; she stopped him with a hand on his chest, directly on the arc reactor, and when he gasped for breath and attempted to say something, she shoved the leather strip into his mouth and had it tied behind his head before his scrambling hands could get it out again. Then, she captured both his wrists and scrutinized them while Tony, trapped against the back of the armchair, glared up at her. She was taller than him, that just wasn't fair.
"We will have to do something about this, won't we," she mused.
"Umpfh uh uck'n nut!", the inventor snapped, which was as close as he got to 'Could you fucking not' with his mouth full of leather gag.
"And you are still not shutting up. It truly is incredible," she sighed. Tony cursed and insulted her through the gag while he tried to pull his hands out of her vice-like grip, but of course this woman had superhuman strength and shit which made it impossible for him to do literally anything. Plus, she had taken the ability to speak from him, again, which meant an entirely new level of helplessness. He couldn't even mock or threaten her now. He was muted, she had taken his only weapon from him.
With nothing more than a glare (and this was the first time Tony really hated magic), she conjured a pair of handcuffs that closed next to the remnants of his old ones. With that disgustingly sweet smile of hers, Freyja said: "I assure you, these shan't break."
Tony huffed and glared at her, his eyes possibly a little too wide for normal standards, his pulse just a few beats too fast, his breathing just a little too erratic to not sound panicked. But this, he told himself, this couldn't be worse than what had already been done to him. Whatever Freyja did, it wouldn't be enough to harm him past the physical wounds. He was used to pain, it would take more to actually hurt him. She needed him alive, and that was all that counted; from everything else, he'd recover.
With newly found stubbornness, he met her unsettling blue eyes. She couldn't do anything to him. She must have noticed that something had changed in the brief seconds of silence, because her gaze darkened and the next thing she conjured from her little pocket dimension was a small, but dangerous-looking dagger. Tony did flinch when he saw it, but he clenched his jaw, biting down onto the leather stripe that served as gag, and stared at some point behind Freyja's shoulder.
"Am I not interesting enough for you?", she hissed, seizing the front of his tunic and pulling him closer. He hadn't even used the 'ignoring'-tactic for one minute and it was already working. Wonderful. "Fine then, let us see whether I can capture your attention."
She pushed Tony down into the armchair and he kept staring out of the window he'd found, pretending not to notice how she raised the dagger although his every sense was focussed on the knife. The mask of indifference worked until he felt and heard how she began to slit his tunic in half.
With a jolt that was more instinct than conscious decision, he pushed the knife away from himself and covered the reactor with both arms, barely noticing that his sudden reaction had caused him to cut his forearm on the blade. His eyes were wild, anxious – nobody had bothered with the reactor so far, nobody but Loki. And Loki was allowed to. She wasn't.
He glared at her as if that would somehow stop her. Well, that indifference thing sure worked for a long time. The reactor was a no-go.
Pressing both hands over his chest, he squirmed away until he was flush against the backrest of the seat. Freyja's grin widened and she said something, presumably mocking, that he didn't even bother listening to. Instead, he tried to shove her away with a foot against her stomach, but she caught him by the boot and twisted his ankle harshly until Tony cried out behind the gag.
Then, she carelessly dropped his leg and moved to stand between the engineer's knees so she could tug his hands away from his chest and over his head. Tony struggled every inch of the way, but because of gods and their stupid fucking superhuman strength, all he could do was to yell muffled insults into the leather stripe between his teeth.
Freyja slit the tunic open with enough carelessness to break the engineer's skin underneath in a long, thin cut from his chest to his waist. The fabric fell open and she dropped the dagger on the floor beside her as she crouched down to examine the reactor.
Glancing up into Tony's panicked eyes, she asked: "What happens if I take this out?" He shook his head vehemently, trying to pull his hands away from her grip and press himself further back into the cushions at the same time. Don't you dare, don't you fucking dare! "Did Loki give you this?" He shook his head again, trying to twist away from the hand reaching towards the arc reactor. "But it does feel like him," she remarked, "and it did not when I had you the first time." How the fuck am I even supposed to answer with this thing in my mouth?
Freyja closed her hand over the reactor and gave it an experimental pull. Tony cried out as it shot a stab of pain through his chest and arched his back so she'd stop tugging at the reactor. Thankfully, she seemed to get the hint and let go. The inventor slumped back into the seat with a shuddering exhale and shook his head warningly when she tried again – this time, she had the right idea and twisted the reactor in its casing.
Slowly, she pulled it out. Tony felt all blood draining from his face and he tried to tell her to put it back in right fucking now and to not rip that cable, do not lay a finger on that cable, but holding him down seemed to be all too easy because she didn't even pay attention while she examined the cable that ran into the cavity of his chest.
The inventor had ceased every movement and watched her with wide eyes, nearly paralysed with fear. The reactor was just the power source for the magnet, so as long as the cable was still connected, the shrapnel wouldn't move, but who knew what this insane wench was going to do if Loki didn't turn up here soon.
Freyja turned the reactor over in her hand, examining the foreign technology. Its blue glow reflected in her eyes, giving them an eerily intense colour that made the almost predatory look on her face all the more dangerous. When she glanced up to meet Tony's eyes, he just shook his head very slowly, as if that would do anything to stop her.
"Why does it feel like Loki?", she demanded quietly and the engineer shrugged helplessly, what does she even mean, 'it feels like Loki', for Christ's sake, I don't know the first thing about magic! "Are you sure that you don't know?", the goddess asked and tightened her grip around the reactor. Tony nodded frantically and made a little choking sound behind the gag, I can't answer you, goddammit, his eyes fixed on the arc reactor in Freyja's pale fingers.
She couldn't kill him, right? She still needed him. But she has no idea that the reactor keeps me alive, right? Maybe she thinks it's some way of communication to Loki or something, and I can't tell her otherwise as long as I can't speak! He tried to communicate the don't fucking touch this with a glare and and a head-shake, but her unnerving grin only widened. Tony's eyes darted around the room, searching for a way to escape or something like that, but as long as she had the reactor, his heart, literally in her palm, trying to bold was the stupidest thing he could do.
"You won't tell me what it is, then," she stated and Tony shook his head and rolled his eyes. I'm still gagged, nitwit. "Not even if I remove that?", Freyja continued with a nod towards the gag.
The inventor hesitated. Having the gag out was promising, but not enough to risk giving her information. The arc reactor was a sore topic. Then again, maybe he could distract her with explanations about the reactor for a while. But Loki had said that it had magical qualities, that it reminded him of an old, mighty artefact that all kinds off immortals were trying to reproduce, and Tony really didn't want to accidentally give Freyja the key to a possible weapon like that. Determinedly, he shook his head.
The goddess raised her eyebrows as if she waited for him to change his mind. When he held her gaze with as much conviction as he could muster, she nodded slowly and said: "As you wish."
Then, without breaking eye-contact with Tony, she crushed the arc reactor in her hand.
For a moment, after the sound of splintering glass and bending metal had subsided, the room was completely silent. Tony stared at Freyja, then slowly down at her fist that uncurled around the remnants of the device. Small parts, glass shards and tiny scraps of metal, clinked softly when they hit the marble floor, and he heard the goddess' voice as she stared at the small cuts in her palm, indifferently stating: "Oh dear, what a mess."
Tony felt his breath speeding up without consent as he watched the cable that ran into his chest fall down limply so the broken rest of the reactor that still was attached to it fell to rest against his stomach and caused an unpleasant pull in his chest, not to speak of the panic that was making his heart race with an abnormal speed.
Broken. She had broken the reactor. She had broken the power source for the magnet, the shrapnel was going to start moving, he was going into cardiac arrest –
Immediately, Tony told himself to think rationally. He had about half an hour before the shards would actually move, and he had to stay calm (that sounded so easy when you were in third perspective) or everything would go downhill much faster. He was okay, he was... not fucking okay, how would he be, she had crushed his heart in her palm, he was... not going to die, not if he stayed calm, he could handle this, he just needed to breathe, slowly...
He tried to recall Loki's voice in his ear. Breathe. Easy, Anthony. You can do it, for me. In and out. Just like that. Breathe, slowly. With me. The engineer took some deep, carefully measured breaths. He was still trembling in Freyja's grip and had squeezed his eyes shut to avoid having to look at her, every breath came out as a whimpering wheeze, but he wasn't hyperventilating and that was the most important thing right now.
Slowly, he opened his eyes again to glare at Freyja defiantly. She was watching him with something akin to curiosity, a morbid, cold version of it, a small smile etched into her features. He could smell her because she was still crouched over him, pressing his cuffed wrists to the backrest behind his head with one of her hands and looming over him, terrifyingly close.
Tony wondered if he could spontaneously learn telepathy just to transmit a loud, clear fuck off to her. Judging by her lack of reaction, it didn't work.
"You do not seem dead to me," she pointed out. Yeah, not yet. "So what exactly is- pardon, was this? Did–"
She didn't finish the sentence because finally, finally the door was wrenched open. Tony only heard it because Freyja was standing in his line of sight, but the way she whirled around and let go of him told him everything he needed to know.
"How did you get in here?", she snarled. About fucking time, you bastard.
"Somebody left their chalk circle on the floor," Loki sneered, followed by a muttered, "amateurs". There were the quiet footsteps, accentuated by the clicking of leather boots, that Tony had come to identify as Loki's, and the prince continued: "Now, if I am not misunderstood, you broke a –" He stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of Tony, gagged, face bloodied, arc reactor shattered, and the inventor saw Loki's eyes widen as he sucked in a deep breath before shock turned into anger. "How dare you," he hissed, advancing towards Tony, but Freyja was faster: She seized the engineer by his hair and forced him to stand up from the armchair.
Tony winced and hissed as he thoughtlessly put his weight onto the ankle she had twisted before, hopped awkwardly for a moment until she forced him backwards against her chest. He felt a cold blade pressed against his throat (it was really getting old now, déjà-vu didn't even cover that anymore) and announced: "I want you to..."
"I know what you want, Freyja," Loki cut her off, and Tony could see sparks of green light dancing around his fingertips. He was pissed. "But I give you a promise, and you can expect me to keep this one: Should he not stand next to me in the next thirty seconds, you are not going to leave this room other than in a coffin."
There was a hint of uncertainty in the goddess' voice as she responded: "I am a member of the Council, you cannot..."
"You know that I can," Loki interrupted, eyes blazing and fists clenched. "Stop speaking, I refuse to engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed person. Hand. Him. Over."
Before Freyja could reply, the door closed behind Loki and Freyr greeted the three of them with a thin smile: "I seem to have missed something. When did we grant him access to the palace?"
"When you morons failed to clean up behind you," Loki snarled without even turning to acknowledge the other man. "Now, quit playing games, or there will be two Vanir funerals tonight."
Tony had never heard the prince uttering such blatant, unconcealed threats. They were always subtle, careful, only visible when you squinted. Twice. This here was new. This was something he had never seen on the god before and it scared him. He didn't seem to be the only one.
"You wouldn't dare...", Freyja began for a second time.
"I would and you know it!", Loki yelled. Tony felt the goddess behind him wince.
Freyr decided to chime in then, his tone low and warning, but surprisingly enough, directed at his sister: "Leave it, sister mine." He stepped around Loki, putting a respectful distance between them, and approached the goddess and Tony.
"What are you doing?", Freyja hissed.
"Can't you see he is not in the mood for your games!", the blond god snapped, coming to a halt in front of his sister. Tony felt like he was trapped between a year-long argument between the siblings. "He shall get his beloved slave back if he longs for him so much."
Tony huffed. All of this for Freyr to call all of it off again? Not that he'd complain, as long as he got a functioning reactor back into his chest, he'd accept every possible outcome of this scenario. It was certainly better than listening to these three arguing any longer.
With Freyja standing behind him and Freyr blocking Loki's view, Tony was the only one who saw how the Vanir produced a thin, silvery dagger out of one of his wide sleeves, and he didn't even manage to scream before Freyr had thrust it into his stomach.