Author's note: Thank you so much for all the feedback, people; you really are the best! :)
When he wakes up, he immediately regrets doing so. His body protests wildly as he tries to roll over to find a more comfortable position and he can swear he hears his joints creaking ominously.
It feels like he's taken a tumble down a ten-mile hill, the entire way down paved with strategically placed boulders. His knees are sore and his hands aching, and that's putting it mildly. To say nothing of his poor, abused back.
Floor scrubbing is clearly not conducive to his health.
It's only with the most heroic of efforts that he manages to get out of – or rather, roll out of – the bed and unsteadily get up on his two feet.
Stumbling to the bathroom, he sincerely hopes that Tony doesn't have any more floors in need of scrubbing. He doesn't think his body can take it.
Just like yesterday, once he's finished he has nothing else to do than to sit around and wait before Tony decides to summon him. It takes a long time before Jarvis' voice announces that Tony is waiting for him downstairs. Sighing, Loki stands up again, ignoring his body voicing its displeasure by sending sharp stabs of pain through his back and legs, and walks out.
Tony is sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on a cup of some brown liquid as Loki walks in. He raises an eyebrow at the god, critically scrutinizing him.
"Well, if it isn't ol' Reindeer Games! I hope the mattress isn't too hard for you? 'Cause you do seem to be walking a bit more stiffly than usual, if you don't mind me pointing that out."
Well isn't Tony the comedian.
"The mattress is perfectly fine," he says as politely as he can manage, sitting down at his usual spot at the table after Tony has indicated for him to do so. There is already a bowl (the one with the kittens) and a spoon laid out for him, and he wonders why Tony even bothers doing that rather than having his slave set out his own eating utensils, and Tony's as well, as would have been appropriate.
"Help yourself," Tony gestures in the approximate direction of the milk cartoon and the bigger box with the round things that are standing on the table. Cheerios, it says on the side, but Loki doesn't know what the word is supposed to mean.
Not like it matters. Silently, he pours himself some milk and then some of those other things and digs in, sighing contentedly. He's positively starving.
"So," Tony suddenly says, breaking Loki's little moment with his food. "Are you finally going to tell me the answer to the one million dollar question? Because I've been kinda wondering, you know?"
Huh?
Loki looks up from the bowl, confused.
"I don't understand," he says quietly, sensing danger. "Which question would that be?"
Tony leans back into his chair, crossing his legs and scratching the back of his head as he gives the god a rather amused look.
"Come on, you're smarter than that, Bambi. Those friends of yours that showed up here a couple of days ago – I'm sure you remember them, the guys with the huge swords and big beards – they never bothered telling me why Odin decided to gift you to me of all the Avengers. Not to say that I'm not flattered to have been thought of for such a gracious gesture, and from the Allfather no less, but it kind of makes me wonder – why not one of the other guys?" The facade of mock seriousness cracks as an impious smile tugs at his upper lip. "I'm sure Barton would have absolutely loved the opportunity to play Kunta Kinte with you."
A few of the round shapes take the wrong way down Loki's throat and he coughs, spluttering and hawking.
Tony shoves a glass of water in front of him, and Loki drinks, the gulps of water managing to suppress his coughing fit.
"Well?" Tony asks again once Loki appears able to speak again. "Why me?"
Of course, Loki has no choice but to answer. He doesn't like it one bit though. Better tread carefully now.
"Odin decided that you were the most appropriate choice," he says, already knowing before the words are out that this answer won't do.
"Well duh," Tony says and Loki can hear the sarcasm positively dripping from that short little statement. "Of course he did or you wouldn't be here. What I wanna know is, why did Odin think I would make the best slave master out of the whole merry little team of Avengers?"
Memories from his trial flash before his eyes, and for a while it's almost as if he can hear Odin's voice booming across the room as the Allfather pronounces his judgement. Damning him to a life as someone's property, and a mortal's at that.
He keeps his eyes on the remainders of his breakfast as he answers. Somehow, he can't really bear to meet Tony's eyes. "Your leader, Director Fury, didn't get selected because Odin realized that he would only ever have an interest in me as a test subject, and that wasn't the point of my punishment, so…"
"That figures," Tony interrupts him. "Quite a shame, though, because handing you over to Fury would have made my life a lot easier in so many ways. No offence, Rudolph, but if the universe would have asked me a few days ago what my most heartfelt desire was, a slave would not have made it into even the top one hundred." He waves impatiently with his hand. "Alright, go on, what about the rest of them?"
"As for Romanoff, the court suspected that she might simply cut my throat on sight, so she was out. If they wanted me dead, they would have executed me right there and then and saved themselves the trouble."
"Ah yes, dear Natasha. She was quite upset about you calling her a 'mewling quim', you know. Not many dare to speak to her that way, and those that do usually leave minus at least one body part."
Damn. He'd totally forgotten about that.
He hopes that it isn't another mark that will go onto Tony's list of things that he will eventually be punished for, but there is a hint of amusement in his voice that makes Loki think that it might not actually count in his disfavour after all. Still, he finds it prudent to move away from the subject.
"Banner… was considered inappropriate to be left in charge of a slave, given that he sometimes turns into… his other form. As the Hulk, he's too dangerous for someone without… godly powers."
Tony chuckles. "Well, seeing the number the Hulk did on you a while ago, I hardly think the 'godly powers' part make much of a difference."
Humiliating, but true. A prickle of anger stirs within Loki, but he knows better than to refute the comment. Instead, he quickly moves on to the next name.
"Odin didn't believe that Rogers would have it in him to take on a slave. It would go against his Midgardian morals to do such a thing." A little tweaking of the truth there; rather it had been Roger's suspected qualms about taking revenge and treating Loki as badly as the Asgardian court was expecting their candidate of choice to do that had struck Rogers off the list, but Tony doesn't need to know that. Doesn't need to know that the court will surely only be the more pleased the worse Tony treats him.
Only one name on the list now, and he doesn't want to go there, so he tries to evade.
"Thor was never a possible candidate to start with, seeing as he still considers himself my brother. So that only left you."
"What about Barton?"
Of course, Tony takes note of the omission. And if there is one subject that Loki does not want brought up, it's the man with the bow and arrows. Because if there's one person who'd like to see him suffer until the end of the world, it's Barton.
And what if Tony decides it would be a great idea to provide his trigger happy friend with a little loan in the form of an enslaved god of mischief?
It's not a pleasant thought. Being left to Tony's mercies is bad enough, but Barton would be even worse.
"Barton hates me enough to kill me on sight," Loki says simply, hoping that is enough to dissuade Tony from any such ideas. Yes, the court thought it was a bad idea to hand me over to him, and so should you.
"Uh-huh. Sounds like I got picked out by process of elimination, then. And here I thought I was all special." Tony scoffs, feigning disappointment.
As the man says nothing further on the subject, Loki slowly releases a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding in. If Tony is considering putting Loki on loan to Barton, at least he isn't saying anything about it out loud.
There is silence again, and Loki looks down into his empty bowl. The meagre scraps thrown to him in the dungeons have left him starving, and he wonders if he should dare to go for another serving of the round little things. Tony did tell him to help himself as he sat down at the table, but whether the offer included a second serving wasn't made clear. The prospect of more food is tempting, though, and he decides to risk it, making a grab for the garish package in front of him.
To his relief, Tony doesn't ask him what the hell he's doing or even seems to notice.
So he starts eating again, but there's one thing nagging at the back of his head. He would feel much calmer actually knowing. And now is the perfect time to ask, given that the subject has already been breached.
Of course, he knows full well that slaves aren't supposed to ask questions. It's not his place, not in his current station, and he's seen what happens to nosy slaves back in Asgard, but he can't stop himself.
"May I ask… where are the other Avengers currently at?" he says, as politely and demurely as he can manage without choking on his own words. He had sort of expected that they would be hanging around in the vicinity, that he would run into at least a few of them here at Stark Tower, but so far there's only been Tony.
If Tony thinks his slave is acting above his station by asking him such a direct question, he doesn't show it. "Ah, missing them already, are you? Well, to tell you the truth, I don't really keep track of their whereabouts. We only get together when the world is threatened by some demented super villain." He gives Loki a piercing look. "Like that time when you tried to take over the entire planet."
Uh-oh. Dangerous ground. Loki doesn't need to be reminded of his failed attempt to lay Midgard under his feet. And frankly, neither does Tony.
"Anyway, Romanoff and Barton are in South America on a mission, looking for some illegal weapons dealer or the other. Bruce spends his days in the lab, mixing stuff with other stuff in little test tubes. Steve is probably saving the world somewhere. And Fury, well, who knows. As for your brother, he's off spending some quality time with Jane."
"I don't have a brother," he retorts, reflexively. But that's not important right now, what matters is that Barton is far away, on another continent. Hopefully not coming back at all.
"Well, Thor seems to think that you do. Unless you have some other fraternal relation I don't know about."
"He didn't even show up at my trial," Loki says. He doesn't know why he's even telling Tony that, but the words force themselves out by their own volition and he regrets them before they're out.
"Can't say I blame him."
Another silence follows, and Loki is looking down into his empty bowl again. He's still hungry, and seeing as how Tony didn't comment on his helping himself to seconds, going for a third helping can't hurt. Hoping there's still some stuff left, he reaches out for the box again.
This time, Tony nails him with a quizzical look.
"Didn't they feed you in prison?"
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