Author's note: Yay for Loki!angst! ;)
The door closes behind Loki with a soft click, Tony's last words still ringing in his ears. Don't even think about trying to leave this room until I say you can.
He waits a few moments while the footsteps are retreating, taking in his surroundings. From the looks of it, he's been locked into one of Stark Tower's guest rooms. It's rather small, but comes fully furnished and with an attached bathroom and even a window. No doubt a lot better than the living arrangements he would have gotten had Tony been at all prepared for his unexpected house guest. But he supposes that no matter how well-equipped the tower is, it doesn't come with a drafty dungeon.
The last echoes of the footsteps finally die down, and Loki sinks down on the bed in the corner, letting out a deep sigh as he buries his face in his hands. For a moment he just sits there as the tension slowly drains from his body and his breathing goes back to normal again. First encounter with Tony Stark and he's still in one piece. For now. He supposes that's got to count for something. Truth be told, he'd expected a lot worse.
Taking a deep breath, glad he's still able to, he wills his tense limbs to relax. He's so tired, the weariness nagging at his bones like little rats gnawing at him. The dungeons of Asgard don't make for good sleeping, though he doubts he would have been sleeping much better these last few days in other accommodations. Not since Odin's judgement was read out to him in court.
He'd expected death, torture, imprisonment, banishment, even some twisted combination of them all. But not… this.
Total, utter humiliation. To be turned into a slave of a mere mortal, his powers and magic sealed away and inaccessible. The blood was pounding so hard in his head that he had to concentrate to hear Odin's vibrant, unwavering voice as it pronounced his verdict. Not death, not torture, but slavery. Which in the end wouldn't rule out the other two options, of course.
And then followed Odin's detailed justification for picking whoever was to be Loki's master, more directed to the audience gathered for the trial than to the condemned, and even though Loki was listening in transfixion, he could only make out bits and pieces of it. It was all so unreal, hearing the Allfather (though, not Loki's father) make his way through the list of all Avenger names until only one remained. Like sitting down at one of those human roulette wheels, not knowing which number the little silver ball would land on, but knowing either one would spell his doom.
Barton and Romanoff. Too vindictive and too vicious, respectively. Would put an arrow through his head or slice his throat on sight and defeat the whole purpose of Loki's punishment. Their leader, Director Fury. Would not consider Loki a slave, merely a test subject. Banner. Too uncontrolled in his berserker form. A Loki without his usual powers could be killed with one single punch from the beast. An embittered snicker escaped Loki's lips at that perverse mock-concern for his welfare. As if they even cared. Rogers. Too firmly entrenched in the concept of Midgardian morals and frowns upon the concept of vengeance.
That only left one name.
Stark. The very man he'd thrown out of a window and probably had more reason to hate him than anyone of the others, except for Barton.
How swell. So he'd spend his future getting beaten and humiliated by the great Tony Stark, the Man of Iron himself. Why didn't they just execute him right now and get it over with?
Then he became aware of a sudden silence all around him and he looked up from where he was kneeling in front of the court. All eyes were on him, as if they were expecting him to say something.
"I repeat," Odin's voice boomed, "Loki Laufeyson, do you accept your punishment?"
His nails cut into his palms as he balled his shackled hands into fists in anger. Accept it? What kind of ridiculous question was that? Were they only mocking him further? As if such a fate could ever be acceptable.
"You mean I actually have other options?" Loki spat out, trying to sound confident and condescending, but the words that came out were more bitter and resigned than anything else. He already knew the answer before Odin spoke.
"Your only other option is death."
Of course. No lesser punishment for the traitor, the monstrous stranger in their midst.
Death, or life as Tony Stark's slave. Though, the latter alternative might just turn out to be a slower, more drawn-out version of the first. He should throw it all back into their faces, spit at their self-righteous Asgardian court, choose death and laugh in their faces as he did.
Only that… in that moment, he realized that he actually wanted to live. Not that he had ever wished for death, but it was strange how this sudden desire to live manifested itself now when he was at his lowest point in life and about to be brought even lower. But as long as he was alive, there was still a chance of… of something.
If he didn't accept, he'd lose everything, including his life. If he did accept, he'd lose everything but his life – his magic, his powers, his status, even his freedom. But at least he'd be… alive.
No, Loki Laufeyson didn't want to die, and so it was with churning dread that he heard his own voice speak – whisper –the words that would damn him.
"I accept."
The silence that followed was almost deafening.
The days after his trial are still a haze in his mind. Days spent in the dungeons waiting, enchanted shackles on his wrists, the terrible sensation as his magic was locked away, the unpleasant feeling of occupying the body of what was now essentially a mere mortal. The constant reminders – some stern, others more gleeful – that the enchanted chains around his wrists would allow Heimdall to keep track of him, and if he ever tried to escape his punishment or cause any trouble in the human realm, he'd be taken back to Asgard in no time and put to death. And the manner of execution would be neither quick nor painless, to put it mildly.
And then, one dreary morning, the guards opened the door to his cell, and he knew without them even speaking a word to him what time it was. Time for him to be taken back to Midgard, for his real punishment to start. The preparations were all done.
He had to admit, he was surprised to find out when they arrived at Stark Tower that the one person that hadn't been informed about all this was Tony Stark himself. Then again, Asgard would only rarely send envoys to Midgard, so who should have told him? Thor had refused to be there at his trial, so the big oaf who otherwise flittered between the realms like a drunken butterfly couldn't have reported the verdict to his Avenger friends.
And now… he's here. As Tony's slave, property, plaything, punching bag, whatever. Whatever Tony decides he will be.
The thought makes him feel ill. Whatever revenge Tony is plotting against him now is sure to be vicious. And involve a lot of pain on his part. So he tries to comfort himself with the knowledge that humans are impatient creatures with short attention spans. They quickly grow tired of novelties, no matter how enticing they may seem at first. Eventually, the chance to meet out vengeance will lose its appeal, even to Tony. How long that will take, though, Loki has no idea. Months? Years? A tendril of panic is moving in his insides at the thought, eager to crawl out and strangle him, but he pushes it back down, feeling it slowly subside. Panicking isn't going to do him any good now.
Instead, he sighs and sinks back against the soft mattress of the bed, letting a heavy sigh escape him. The fabric beneath him is smooth, made from some material that doesn't exist back in Asgard. His left hand fiddles around with it for a while as he lies there flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.
Unbidden, his thoughts wander back to his previous encounter with Tony. Despite his initial and rather surprising reluctance to accept Loki as his slave, the man had sure taken to the situation quickly. Quite predictably, his first order had been for Loki to kneel down. Not that Loki couldn't sympathize with the desire to see one's enemies lying broken at one's feet, but it didn't make the humiliation any easier to deal with. A part of him wanted to refuse, to remain standing tall like a true prince of Asgard, but in the end the reality of his situation triumphed. There was nothing to gain by refusing. He was a damned slave, because Odin had decided so. Whatever little useless pride a refusal might salvage, Tony would soon take that away from him anyway, one way or the other.
So he knelt. Like a good little slave, because he still wanted to live, despite it all.
The enjoyment on Tony's face was obvious. Still, Loki was more incensed than anything else. Until Tony decided to shove that shock stick into his face; that's when that incensement turned into fear. Intellectually, Loki already knew that he no longer held any godly powers, but it wasn't until that moment that he truly realized the extent of his vulnerability and utter powerlessness. His body was no longer immune to what would have otherwise been slighter pains or trifling wounds. Those things that he would have merely shrugged off as inconveniences a few days earlier could now kill him, or at least severely injure him.
No resistance to pain, no healing powers, no bodily resilience, no nothing. Just a total lack of power. Power that now Tony Stark holds in his hands. And Loki has nothing, absolutely nothing to resist with.
He twists the smooth fabric in his hand, tearing at it with stiff fingers as the realization grinds inside him. He is totally at Tony's mercy now and there isn't a single thing he can do to protect himself from the man's revenge.
Maybe he would have been better off choosing that other option at the trial after all.