Author's note: A couple of replies to Ellandra (thanks for the long review, by the way :) ): As for the servants' dislike of Loki, I'd say that is part due to his being convicted of crimes that are looked very seriously upon, like treason and trying to kill a beloved crown prince, and part due to many of the servants no doubt having been on the receiving end of Loki's Magical Mischief one time too many…
As for everyone apparently knowing everything about Loki's crimes and punishment and whatnot, I think Asgard is exactly like Earth in that regard – high-profile trials will inevitably garner a lot of public interest and attention, bringing them into the spotlight, Loki's trial being no exception to this.
The fire crackles quietly in the large stone hearth, sending long shadows dancing across the ornamented walls, the grey figures twisting and turning in odd, mystic patterns. He watches them meander for a little while, and then returns to studying the people passing by.
For a bunch of servants, they do look like quite the haughty bunch. Despite many of them appearing to be in a hurry, they don't walk, no, they stride. Like pride is something that comes with birth for these people and runs as naturally through their veins as alcohol does through his.
Well, unless you happen to be a slave, that is. He still recalls that tattered couple that he saw earlier in the market square, feeling that vague prickle of unease again. He's glad that at least there doesn't seem to be any slaves running around here; he isn't sure he could have dealt with that.
Okay, scratch that, there is one unfortunate, notable exception.
He glances at Loki out of the corner of his eye. The god is as rigid as he's ever seen him where he sits perched on his chair, eyeing people with mistrust and wariness, like he expects them to sink their fangs into his throat if his vigilance slacks for even a second.
But no one approaches the god or does anything more than glaring, so Tony takes that as a good sign. Since they obviously consider Loki his property, that should keep them from actually doing anything to him, just like Thor had said. Even if the god is not well liked here, Tony is supposed to be an honoured guest, and at least where he comes from, you don't mess with stuff that belongs to honoured guests.
Though he winces inwardly at the whole 'property' concept. Especially since it would seem that in Asgard it's considered appropriate for property to be seated on the floor like freaking dogs. The image of Loki sinking down to next to his seat is still haunting his inner vision, and he tries to sweep the discomfort away, but the feeling is lingering nonetheless.
And he can't help but think that he should perhaps say something about that, as distasteful as the whole thing is to him. But he still wants some reassurances, if nothing else.
"Uh, so about the… seating arrangements," he says, hating that this is even an issue. "Should I expect anyone to come up to me and challenge me to a duel for… not making you comply with them or something?"
Loki glances up at him from his mug of beer. He is silent for a while before answering, from the looks of it not enjoying this conversation any more than Tony.
"No," he says quietly. "We are in Thor's chambers and you are his honoured guest. You're not endearing yourself to anyone here with this, but the only one really entitled to bring forth any grievances towards you in this matter would be Thor, given that we're under his roof."
"Alright," he shrugs, "guess I can live with people here not lining up to get my autograph." He looks the god over, once more noticing the tenseness in his posture. Time for the other, even more uncomfortable side of the coin, then. "Next question – would anyone bother you about it?"
And damn, if Loki says something that is not a 'no', what is he going to do then? Being a weak and puny mortal without his suit and surrounded by beings wielding freaky super-powers, he won't be able to do shit to protect Loki if anyone should decide they don't approve and want a hands-on solution to this offence to their sensibilities.
Should he tell Loki to just get back on the floor like a dog, then, after having spent so much time and effort trying to get him to not act like a slave? The prospect leaves a foul taste in his mouth. Loki's dignity or safety – you're free to pick whichever of them you prefer, Tony Stark.
But Loki shakes his head, looking away. "No. Not as long as the… seating arrangements were on your orders. But slaves do not seat themselves on any furniture without first having been given permission to do so. And very few masters would ever allow any such."
Urgh.
The whole conversation is just making him feel bad, and he can imagine how shitty this must all make Loki feel, given that he's just learnt to passably behave like he's not a slave, and now he's been thrown into this crap head first. And he can recall all too clearly how despondent Loki had once been, how hesitant and unsure he'd acted around Tony, only to slowly come crawling out of that cocoon he had hidden in as he eventually came to realize that Tony didn't expect or want any slave-like conduct from him. But now, Asgard expects him to revert back to those old behaviours.
His thoughts are interrupted as a large, beautifully adorned door swings open with a bang to admit a bulky man, long black hair flowing over his shoulders, who proceeds to briskly stride into the room as if he owned it. The newcomer is tall and broad-shouldered, wearing his armour like a second skin, equipped with both sword, whip, and dagger all hanging at his belt. A born and bred warrior, his face hard and eyes unforgiving. Tony watches him quietly; unlike most of the others, this man is no simple servant. In fact, it looks like he eats barbed wire for breakfast and then goes off to wrestle dragons for a living.
When the man catches sight of Loki, he stops dead in his tracks, foot almost comically frozen an inch above ground. His already sour, hard face turns several shades darker, and his mouth twists into the kind of snarl most people would reserve for rotten food or dog shit smeared under their shoes.
For a moment, it looks like he is going to make his way over to where Tony and Loki are sitting, but then thinks better of it, ignoring the visitors as he continues on his way, boots stomping angrily against the stone floor.
"So who's Mister Grumpy?" Tony asks, turning to Loki who is disdainfully watching the man's retreating form.
Loki shrugs. "That's Fjalar," he says, making the name sound like an insult.
"Doesn't seem like he'd be the president of your fan club any time soon," Tony points out as he takes another swig of his beer.
His comment earns him a slight mirthless smile. "We have some… history together," comes Loki's cryptic answer.
"Do elaborate." He senses some sort of story there and wants to hear it, if nothing else than to give his mind something to focus that is not the still lingering feeling of discomfort.
Loki plays around with the mug in his hands for a while before speaking again, but when he does, there is a tone of far-away reminiscing in his voice. "Fjalar is the kind of person that has always relied on his strength and thinks that all problems can be solved through force, and if not through force, then through violence."
"Huh. How come I'm not surprised."
"Fjalar only respects physical prowess and skills in battle," Loki continues. "And he holds very little regard for those who wish to excel in… other pursuits."
"Such as?" 'Other pursuits' is a pretty broad concept, after all, and Tony has little idea of what the Aesir do in their spare time when they aren't busy splitting each other's skulls out on the battlefield.
"Skaldic arts, craftsmanship, intellectual pursuits, everything that doesn't involve swinging a giant sword around. But most of all, magic." Loki's voice is flat, but there is still ill-hidden resentment in there punching little cracks into the smooth surface.
"So that's why the guy just gave you a look like he was choking on a bucket of vinegar? Just because he doesn't like magic?" Fjalar must be one of those easily offended types, then, the kind of people that Tony never got along well with.
Loki gives him an inscrutable look, and then there is that special mischievous glint in his eyes, the little sparkle of sincere amusement that makes something tug at Tony's heart. "Well, that, and the fact that I once put a hex on his neither regions to make them take the appearance of a snake during a war campaign when he was off to take a piss." The sparkle turns into a bright flash, followed by a broad smile. "He might not look like it, but Fjalar screams like a girl."
That makes Tony snort into his mug of beer, and he puts it down, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, a burst of laughter escaping from his lips. "Oh heck, I would have paid a fortune to see that!" Chuckling, he slaps Loki's back, shaking his head in disbelief. "Aren't you something, huh?"
And maybe it's just his imagination running away with him, but Loki looks really pleased at that. As if he's not used to someone complementing his magic. Like he enjoys getting approval for it for once in his life.
Tony leans back into his chair once more, grin still on his face, as a haughty woman walks them by, long brown braids trailing after her, chin raised and nose scrunched-up as if she considers the world beneath her notice. He glances after her retreating back not entirely without approval; she'd easily rate a nine if she just got rid of the attitude.
Loki follows Tony's gaze, looking amused. "That's Sigrid, by the way," he informs him. "Pretty as she might be, it is said she once castrated a man with a kitchen knife because she didn't approve of the way he was looking at her, though that might just be a rumour."
The beer goes down the wrong way, and Tony coughs and splutters for a good ten seconds. "Damn, are all Asgardians this fucked-up, or just some of you?" he finally manages, still croaking.
The god looks amused. "I'd say most, if not all." He nods at a beardy, bulky man carrying a huge load of wood in his arms. "And that would be Harald, who suffers from the unfortunate affliction of being dumb as a board." He smirks. "Plus, he also involves himself in inappropriate relations with sheep."
Tony laughs out loud at that. So maybe Loki is just making shit up, but that doesn't matter. Sitting here with the god, having what is a real, normal conversation again, apart from the fact that it's dealing with fairyland magic and alien space-gods, is quite nice after the bout of quiet reticence that Loki has suffered from since Thor made his appearance in Tony's tower.
And the unfortunate little incident with Loki kneeling beside his seat also seems forgotten by now, as if it never happened, like things are back to how they used to be between them in his tower. Like they're not master and slave, but… something else.
"And that fat guy over, there," Loki's voice conspiratorially drawls, indicating another Aesir with a nod, "you know what he likes to do when he thinks no one is watching?"
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