Author's note: Well, not much to say here except thanks again for all your wonderful comments and support, it's making me all warm and fuzzy on the inside! :D

He moves one of the game pieces two diagonal steps across the board, effectively blocking the impending attack from his opponent. The man makes a little grunt in response, no doubt dismayed that his plan was seen through and thwarted so easily. But he quickly recovers, only needing a few brief moments to come up with a new strategy as his hand moves one of the centre pieces off to the side.

Loki is not yet quite sure what Tony is trying to do, though he's certain he will work the man's new tactics out soon enough. Still, he's impressed by Tony's playing abilities, and his original assessment of them certainly hasn't diminished as their playing has progressed. He's already reached a point where Loki actually has to put in a bit of effort to win the game. Well, not that Tony is a real threat yet given his current skill level, but it's amazing how quickly he is mastering the strategy.

And it's not until now that he's seen it in action that he's realized how brilliant Tony's mind truly is. Of course, Loki already knew the man to be very intelligent, a genius even, but not quite to this extent. And he isn't really sure why that should matter, apart from the prospects of eventually being provided with a challenging board game, but he's nonetheless glad for it.

Back in Asgard, there were not many who could ever match him, and the idea that Tony might be one of those select few is for some reason appealing.

He moves a piece of his own, intending to cut off Tony's flank and force him to retreat towards the corner. Tony responds by daringly advancing instead. Perhaps a little too daringly this time. But then again, the man isn't one to sit back and wait unnecessarily, at least not when it comes to Hnefatafl. His playing style tends to be forceful, but well thought out, and could easily have defeated a less talented player than Loki. It's interesting, the way his attacks might seem reckless on the surface, and yet there is a clear strategy behind them that would not be immediately obvious to someone less familiar with the game.

Yes, Tony could no doubt become a master of this with enough practice.

The game continues for a few minutes in silence, Tony valiantly fighting and pushing onwards, but Loki – being the far more experienced player of the two – thwarting his efforts. Eventually, Tony lets slip a sigh and leans back in the chair he's sprawling indecently in, his feet up and resting against the edge of the bed. Not the most comfortable position, perhaps, but given the rather awkward layout of the game set-up, board lying on the available bed space next to Loki and Tony perched on a chair to the side, it will have to do.

"Damn it, Bambi, guess you win this game. Again," Tony comments the outcome, languidly stretching his body with a creak of joints snapping into place. One of his feet slides up towards the pillows from the movement, coming to a rest not far away from Loki's head.

Almost immediately, Tony pulls his foot back, giving a crocked wince. "Ops, sorry about that. Guess you've had enough of having my feet in your face to last you a life-time, haven't you," he says, looking suddenly awkward.

That old foot massage incident. It feels strange to be reminded of that now, something that happened so long ago, almost like it was in another life, back when things were so very different. Back when Tony still resented him, harbouring anger and animosity towards him, and not… whatever it is that he's feeling now. Well, not anger or resentment, at least.

Tony leans forward with a sigh, a hand raking through brown hair, back and forth. "Uh, yeah, about all that," he says with another grimace. "I suppose I was a bit of an ass to you when you first came here… so, sorry about that."

The words hang in the air between them for a while as Loki lets them sink in.

Again, Tony has apologized to him. Just like that time after he lost Loki on the train and the Einherjers had returned him in a less than stellar condition.

Well, perhaps not just like back then, because this time he actually raises his gaze from where his hands are fiddling with the hem of the bed cover to meet with Tony's eyes. "It's alright," he says, and then there are all of a sudden other words gathering in his throat, wanting to get out. He makes no attempt to stop them. "And I… would like to apologize in turn for my transgressions against you during my last visit to Midgard," he adds, a part of him wondering when the last time was that he honestly apologized for anything.

He can't really remember when that was. He's certainly offered a few fake apologies along the way; one even to the man at his bedside, for the very same things that he is apologizing for now, except back then he hadn't meant it, forced from his lips as it had been.

But this one, he actually means.

"No worries, Reindeer Games," Tony says with a little shrug. "I've had people do worse to me. Quite a lot worse, actually. But, I'm still alive and kicking, so it's all good, even though it was a hell of a flight you gave me back there."

He's glad Tony is sounding amused rather than resentful as he says that, and he's also glad that Tony survived that fall. Contemplating the alternative makes him shudder.

Who would he have been handed over to if Tony had died? Barton? The thought makes him feel ill. Chances are he wouldn't even have been alive at this point if the archer had been appointed his master. And even if he were, he would most likely have been in a similar physical condition that he is in now, though he wouldn't have had his injuries treated or been left to recuperate in a nice bed.

Or maybe Bruce? Perhaps that wouldn't have been so horrible, if his recent meeting with the man is anything to go by. Not as long as he remained in his human form, that is. But having the beast emerge just once would have been enough, and Loki would have been done for.

So no, he's definitely glad he failed in his attempt to kill Tony, considering what his own situation would then have been like. Though, truth be told, that might not really be the only reason he's glad for that particular failure.

They play another game that Loki wins too, even though Tony manages to slip a few pieces by his defences. Then the man takes his leave, having things in his workshop that he needs to take care of, and Loki is alone.

Restlessly, he takes the board back down from where Tony placed it on the bedside table as he left and folds it out on his lap, and then starts to arrange and rearrange the two sets of game pieces, white and black, playing out various strategies against an imagined opponent. It's nice to immerse himself in the game like this, even though playing with Tony was a lot more rewarding than playing by himself.

And even if those Hnefatafl games have turned into a daily activity by now, there's still a little surge of surprise in him every time that Tony shows up at his bedside to play. Sure he can understand why a strategic game of this kind with an opponent of Loki's calibre would appeal to a man of Tony's intellect, but he can't help but whimsically hope that that's not the only reason that Tony comes here to play.

Perhaps it's a preposterous thought, but he can't help it.

Because he wants to be more than just a slave in Tony's eyes, he wants for Tony to see him as something else than mere property.

He wants to…

He wants…

He sighs.

He doesn't know what he wants.

Everything is still confusing, a disorganized jumble in his mind. And it's strange, how much his associations to Tony have changed since his coming here – at first it was fear and humiliation and anticipated abuse that entered his mind whenever he thought of Tony, but somewhere along the line it inexplicably changed into gentle hands and ice cream and a promise of protection.

So many odd little jigsaw puzzle pieces floating around in his head that are still difficult to align properly, and perhaps he's just being presumptions, the way a part of him attempting trying to piece them together.

Because really, why should a master care about a slave, especially one who once tried to kill him and conquer his planet? Why should he care about what a mortal thinks of him? Why is he laying here all pampered and taken care of, with strange thoughts swirling through his head?

So many whys, and so few clear answers.

He looks at the little carved piece of wood in his hand, turning it around in his palm. So alien, and yet so familiar. So full of contradictions, just like his current situation. Just like Tony.

Somehow, the man has been figuring in his thoughts increasingly often. Much more often than before. Which is not so surprising, perhaps, since he is the only other company Loki has in here, apart from Jarvis and the robot servants, but those hardly count.

Well, actually it makes perfect sense, when he considers it. His world has been reduced from freely travelling the realms to mostly encompassing this tower, so of course his current thoughts would revolve around whatever is contained in here, whatever he encounters every day.

Like Tony.

Still, he remembers how there was a time when all he wanted from Tony was indifference, to stay off the man's radar as much as possible, to be ignored. To be neither seen nor heard, like a ghost flittering unnoticed through the tower. That had been the most desirable outcome he had envisioned back then, the one thing he had been hoping for.

But that was then.

And things change, sometimes in the most unexpected of ways.

He lies awake for a long time that night, thinking about things he has never thought about before, things that not too long ago would have been unthinkable, but somehow don't seem like such a terrible stretch anymore.

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