Author's note: So, could it be that we are finally going to get an answer to the much-asked question what the sleeping arrangements will look like for the night? ;)
"I will have a servant show you to your chambers," Thor says, rising resolutely from the table as if he is about to embark on another heroic quest. "You must surely be tired and wish for some rest by now."
Yeah, a descent night's sleep is exactly what Tony needs after all of today's crap. Slowly, stomach full of food and head full of beer, he follows Thor's example and gets up from his seat, grimacing slightly as the kinks in his body are suddenly making themselves known. Somehow, he had expected chairs in a magic kingdom to be a bit softer.
Thor leads the way out and once they've made it back into the common room again, Tony's brain takes note of a tall, armour-clad man standing there watching them; unlike the few servants still around at this hour, he is apparently not doing anything of significance, unless lounging in a doorway counts as important. The stranger observes them for a while, and then entangles himself from the doorframe and walks over.
"Greetings, my friends," the man says with a polite incline of his head. The smile on the weather-beaten face is insincere, and Tony doesn't trust him as far as he can throw him. Which wouldn't be any distance at all, given the heavy armour and plated steel he's wearing. Short-clipped beard, expressive eyes, and a broad chin, he probably counts as fairly handsome, but there is something beneath the pleasant exterior that makes a note of discomfort creep over Tony's skin.
Sensing possible danger, he throws a quick glance towards Thor, but the god shows no sign of heightened alertness.
"Greetings, Geir," Thor replies. "What can I do for you?"
"Actually, my business is with the Man of Iron," the man named Geir intones as he turns his eyes onto Tony, regarding him with a fixed stare. "I was wondering if I may have a few quick words with you?"
And really, he'd like to tell Geir no, especially considering his interactions so far with the local natives, but he's also aware that he's a guest here and it might be considered very rude to refuse a simple request like that without even hearing the guy out. And pissing people off is hardly going to be conducive to having things run smoothly during his stay here. He's had enough problems since coming here to last him a life-time. And since Thor seems to know the man, or at least his name, he can see no immediate reason for turning it down.
"Sure, buddy," he says, glad he's not slurring just yet. One or two more beers, though… "Just shoot."
Geir makes a slight jerk of his head, indicating that he wants Tony to follow rather than continuing their conversation where they're standing. "Please, I would prefer if we could handle this a little more privately."
"Yeah, well, I'm not sure it would be polite to traipse off just as my gracious host was about to show me my accommodations for the night," he says, not really feeling up to this at all.
"Ah, I don't mean we have to go far, just down the hallway where we can talk undisturbed. It won't take long, I assure you," Geir insists.
Tony shoots Thor another glance, in case the god is having second thoughts about him wandering off with this guy, but he looks fully unperturbed at Geir's suggestion.
"Do not worry," Thor assures him, "I will wait here until you have finished your business with Geir."
Well, if Thor sees no problem with it, then fine. He nods his consent, hoping he won't regret this.
He follows the armoured man into the hallway, where Geir stops and turns towards Tony with a smile reminiscent of a viper.
"I am sorry for intruding so rudely upon you," he says, but the apology doesn't sound the least bit sincere. He leans against the wall behind him, steel scraping against stone, as he considers Tony. "However, you have something in your possession that is of interest to me."
Tony shrugs. "Sorry, no more magic cubes. You'll have to ask Fjalar about that, he got my only one."
Geir wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion, then, a second later his face lights up again and he laughs, the sound like sandpaper against granite. "Ah, no, you misunderstand. I care not for such trinkets," he says, waving a hand in disdain. "They might please simple men like Fjalar, but I have something different in mind." He leans closer to Tony, all gleaming eyes and sharp white teeth.
"Allow me the use of your slave for the night, and I will pay you handsomely for this favour."
And really, he should have seen this coming. With all the shit that has happened, Geir's suggestion should have come as no surprise at all.
And yet it does. For a few moments, Tony Stark finds that he is all out of words, as he stands there gaping in disbelief.
"He's not for sale," he finally manages to spit out after the silence has gone on for far too long, employing every bit of self-restraint he can muster as to not add a 'go to hell and don't ever come back' to that.
You sick bastard.
Geir's eyes narrow slightly at the flat-out refusal, but his tone is as polite as before. "Ah, so you wish to keep him for yourself, then." The smirk curling his lips shows not so much mirth as indulgence with a child wanting a precious toy for itself. "I can't say I blame you, though I think your unwillingness to share your good fortunes is quite a shame."
Something akin to bile is rising in the back of Tony's throat. "Yeah well, no deal. I think I should get back now. Thor is waiting for me." The effort not to put his fist to the guy's face takes every ounce of self-control that's left in him. If only he had had his suit…
At this, Geir puts an arm up against the wall, effectively blocking Tony's retreat. He does it so smoothly, so carelessly that it almost looks as if it's coincidental and not something done to purposely stop Tony from leaving just yet.
"I heard that you refused to have him whipped despite him having assaulted that fool Fjalar. You must really treasure your slave, or perhaps should I say his abilities." The lecherous face is far too close for comfort for Tony, but he refuses to step back and show weakness in the presence of this creep. "Though I can agree it would be a shame to mar such beauty with lash marks." The distance shrinks further, and it is all Tony can do not to clock the bastard in the jaw. "Tell me, is he as good as he looks?
And Tony has had enough. Good manners be damned, he shoves past Geir with a 'fuck you' and walks off, not bothering to deign that shit with an answer.
He can hear Geir's dry laughter behind him. "If you change your mind, let me know."
Tony neither replies nor turns. Once he's back, Thor gives him a concerned look, clearly sensing that something's off.
"If you don't mind me asking, what was it that Geir wanted from you?" he queries.
"Something that's not for sale," Tony snaps, more gruffly than he had intended.
Thor regards him with a creased brow for a few moments, but when Tony doesn't elaborate, he asks no further questions.
"Very well, then." Thor beckons one of the servants, a tall, wiry man with a squirrel-like face. "Ingvar, would you show Man of Iron and my brother to their quarters?"
The servant hurries over with a flustered, "Of course, my prince," and Thor turns back to Tony again.
"I hope you don't mind sharing accommodations with Loki." The god looks slightly apologetic at this. "Even if no one would dare harming Loki without provocation, it would still make me feel safer knowing that Loki won't be staying in separate quarters, in case something happens."
"It's fine. I'd be less concerned for his safety if he were to stay in the Overlook Hotel than keeping him in a single room here," Tony replies with a shrug. Nope, he most definitely wants Loki where he can keep an eye on him.
They wish each other a good night, and a moment later, Tony and Loki are following the servant to the guest quarters.
Tony doesn't take much notice of the gilded halls or magic-enhanced interiors they pass, stunning as they might be; he is far too absorbed in his own swirling mind to pay attention to his surroundings. It is a sobering thought, equal amounts shocking and horrifying to truly realize what life for a slave here in Asgard is like. What Loki's life would have been like if Odin had made him serve his sentence here instead of being sent over to Midgard and to Tony.
And as has been made obvious after not even one day here, that life would have been an endless cycle of humiliation, beatings, of being used for sexual gratification. Slavery in Asgard is no joke, and it sickens him what the poor wretches at the very bottom of the social ladder have to endure here.
With this realization also comes another pang of shame for the flippant attitude he'd displayed towards Loki's slavery at first, if this was the sort of treatment the god was anticipating when coming to his tower. If he'd known about all of this, how things are done in Asgard, he would have acted… differently. But he never really stopped along the way to think much about what Loki might expect from him. He always fancied himself the good guy, and even if he never believed in the whole hero concept, at least he figured himself to be some kind of make-shift facsimile sort-of-hero type. At least as close as you can get in an age far removed from Camelot and Mount Olympus and all that other spiffy mythological stuff.
And as a sort-of-hero, he wouldn't of course sink to violent abuse and all that other human rights strangling-and-stabbing-in-the-throat stuff that the villains of the story so cheerfully dish out. Back then, the idea never crossed his mind that Loki wouldn't be aware of that, having been raised in a culture with very different views on how it's okay to treat others, and criminals and enemies in particular. To say nothing of slaves.
The realization that Loki had assumed that Tony would take advantage of him in that way had been a major what-the-fuck moment for him at the time, the god's blunt question in an instant turning his world upside down from the sheer surrealism of it. But now, in hind-sight, having personally witnessed the shit that flies here, the assumption makes perfect sense. Especially after having been approached by that Geir guy and being personally queried about his goods like he's some fucking pimp.
The mousy servant stops outside a heavy door with silver ornaments on its panels. The hinges creak slightly as he pushes the handle open. "If you please," the man indicates with a curt bow, showing them inside.
"Thanks, pal," Tony mumbles absent-mindedly, still partly lost somewhere in his own thoughts, though he snaps out of it enough to give his new surroundings a quick check over.
Spacious and extravagantly furnished and decorated, the room leaves little to be desired, even to demanding guests used to luxury. Well, perhaps air-conditioning and a mini-bar is out of the deal, but other than that it looks like quarters fit for a king.
It is only when the servant has bowed again and taken his leave, that Tony realizes that there is only one bed.
And I'm sure no one saw *that* coming from a mile away…
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