Author's note: Oh, and I got more fanart! :D Can't post a direct link since FFN eats them for breakfast, but search for the user NessunDorma345 over at tumblr; she's made some nifty sketches from various scenes of this story! ^^
Tony exhales a deep breath of relief as the door to their room closes behind them, blissfully shutting the rest of the world out. Not wasting a second, he walks over to the bed and sits down on it, letting the strain slowly fade from his body as he rubs his hands over his face.
As utterly abysmal as the evening had looked there for a moment, at least things did shape up towards the end of it – he won the duel, and Hallgrim was back in the same high spirits as before, his amusement making it clear that he had forgiven Tony for how his dinner party had turned sour. 'This tale will be told by the skalds in many centuries hereafter,' he had grinned as he had slapped Tony's back, highly entertained by the unconventional manner of Njal's defeat.
And right now, all he wants is to get some fucking sleep; it's like every ounce of energy has been wrung out of him as if he were a dish rag. Clumsily, he fumbles with a strap on his jacket, wincing at the stab of pain shooting through his sore shoulder.
Then, Loki is at his side, his hand on Tony's forearm halting his movement. "Let me help you undress," he says, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Tony's stomach squirms in unease at the offer – having Loki help dressing him was awkward and weird enough, but having him actually take his clothes off suddenly seems a thousand times worse. He looks up at the god standing beside him, about to protest, but Loki interrupts him. "Getting out of those clothes isn't really going to be much easier than getting into them; it will go much quicker if I assist you."
With a sigh, he acquiesces. He really doesn't want to spend half an hour getting all this junk off before crawling into bed, and he sure as heck doesn't want to sleep in it either. As he stands up, his sword, still at his side, clank against the edge of the bed in an unpleasant reminder of recent events.
At least Loki had assured him that he was alright as they had made their way back from Hallgrim, despite the disgusting creep that had been groping him all over. He almost regrets not slitting Njal's throat when he had the chance. Fucking bastard…
As he's imagining doing all sorts of painful things to Njal, Loki walks around him and comes to a halt behind his back, deft hands going up to his shoulders to unfasten his cloak. He then steps over to hang it across the single chair in the room, and Tony can't help but stare at the ragged corner where a large piece of fabric is missing, having been slashed off by Njal's sword.
"Good thing cell phone cameras aren't in vogue here, because I must have looked like an idiot trying to fight that fucker," he mutters as the god unclasps his sword belt next, making Tony feel at least ten pounds lighter.
Loki turns to look at him, his face entirely serious. "No, you did not," he says, not batting as much as an eyelash.
Tony snorts. "No need to spare my feelings, Loki, I do have a basic sense of self-awareness. Heck, I could even hear some people snicker as I was darting around like a moron just barely avoiding getting skewered."
Loki puts the sword away and then returns to working on the complicated straps and bindings on Tony's jacket. "The display as such might have looked humorous to people who are used to seeing duels fought in more direct manners, but I can assure you that they were all impressed." Then, a little softer, "We were all impressed."
This time, Tony laughs out loud. "Impressed by what? Me stumbling and almost falling on my ass? Or me getting my cloak sliced into two? Or perhaps my glorious flight into that mighty pillar of doom?"
Loki's fingers don't stop working for a second, running over his back and sides with dexterous movements. "By agreeing to fight Njal in the first place. It was obvious to everyone in that room that you had never held a sword in your hands before, and yet you didn't hesitate to take on Njal's challenge." There is a clatter of metal as buckles come loose and clang against each other. "It is one thing to agree to a duel when you know you stand a fair chance of winning, and another when you do not. Despite your lack of skills with a sword, I can assure you that there was not a single person who watched who did not admire your bravery."
The jacket comes off, Loki sliding it down his shoulders and arms. "Not sure if it was as much bravery as foolhardiness and… other things," he says, tensing up a little as Loki's fingers take to fiddling with some straps or the other on the back of his shirt. Without the thicker fabric of the jacket between his skin and Loki's fingertips, the soft touches are so much more noticeable, sending little tingling pulses along his spine. Luckily, whatever has been tightening the shirt up soon comes undone, making the fabric fall into loose folds over his torso.
"And should I be worried that I will have other assholes lining up to challenge me now that I've made it painfully obvious that I barely know which end of the sword to stick into my opponent? I thought I was supposed to be an honoured guest and wouldn't have to deal with shit like getting challenged to duels, or have… my so-called 'property' molested." he says to the ceiling instead of to the god who is now crouched down next to him, occupied with undoing the lacing running up his leg.
"You are an honoured guest," Loki says evenly. "Njal overstepped his bounds by far with the way he behaved. If people had noticed what he was doing to me, they would have stepped in on your behalf to stop it. Honoured guests are not treated like that; it is a disgrace to all of Asgard. Njal greatly shamed himself through this, and not primarily because he lost the duel. I am sure not even he would have behaved like that if he had not been drunk."
"But it was still okay for him to demand a duel from me? Even though he was the one who acted like an ass in the first place?"
Loki's hands have made it up to his knee, and Tony tries to think of something else.
"Duels are something entirely different," the god says, not taking his eyes off the lacing. "Anyone is free to challenge another if they feel they have been offended, but it's not something that should be done lightly or over mere trifles."
"That's wonderful," he says, rolling his eyes. "So if I had lost, anyone and everyone would have been free to… do stuff to you?"
"No," Loki shakes his head, hands moving up to Tony's thigh now. "The important part isn't to win, but to fight in the first place, to show everyone that you are willing to stand up for yourself when your rights are called into question. Even if you'd loose, people would still respect you. By refusing to fight, many would brand you a coward, perhaps even go as far as to call you argr, and such men are not held in high esteem, and their rights, including those to their property, would not be as highly respected. But you have proven yourself, so no one will dispute your rights again."
"Well, isn't that a relief," Tony mutters, glad that Loki is finished with his first leg and is now moving over to his other one. At least it seems like the undressing part is going a lot quicker than the dressing part. "Don't you have freaking laws against this or something? You know, to prevent people from challenging you over whatever whenever they feel like it?"
"Duels of honour only concern those involved," Loki says. "It is not a matter for the court to deal with."
"Huh. I'm really glad I live in Midgard, then."
Loki makes no reply to that, merely finishes up the last of the lacing on Tony's pants, then continues to undo the straps and buckles precariously close to his groin area, causing Tony to hold his breath from sheer uneasiness. And if Loki is going to try to pull down his pants for him as well, he's sure as heck not going to let that happen.
"Okay, I think I can manage the rest myself," he says as the last buckle comes undone, taking a step back to pull off the shirt hanging loosely on his frame. He winces from the movement, his tender shoulder protesting as he lifts his arm.
Loki immediately notices his discomfort. "Are you wounded?" he says with wrinkled eyebrows.
"Nah, nothing bad," he waves it off. "Just my shoulder being a bit sore from engaging in intimate knowledge with that big pillar without sufficient protection."
He feels a little aching sting inside of him as he moves behind Tony and the man's discoloured shoulder comes into view. Even if nothing is broken in there, it does look sore and painful.
"We should call for a healer to take a look at it," he says, though he has the feeling that Tony will be stubborn enough to refuse.
Tony looks up, shirt still in hand. "No thanks, no magic hocus-pocus going into my body. I'll just let things heal the normal, standard way. It's worked perfectly fine for me during all these years."
From the tone of his voice, it's clear that nothing is going to convince the man to change his mind. "Then let me at least rub it in with some healing ointment," Loki says. "There is a jar of it in the bathroom; it should help with the swelling."
"You mean magic healing ointment?" Tony asks suspiciously.
Loki shakes his head. "No, it's just herbs. There's no magic involved."
Tony looks like he's debating with himself for several long moments before acquiescing. "Okay, fine," he agrees, throwing the shirt over the armrest of the couch and then sitting down on the edge of the bed, right hand on his sore shoulder as he rotates the joint a few times.
Before Tony can decide to change him mind, Loki hurries off into the bathroom to get the jar of salve. Even now, he's still agitated and tense after the disturbing events of the evening. He had been so worried; it was as if a lump of lead had settled into his stomach. Tony could really have gotten hurt, and he had shouted at him not to accept the challenge, earning him several angry and displeased looks from the spectators. However, if Tony had at all heard him, he hadn't listened.
Even if Njal was drunk, even if it wasn't a fight to the death, he really couldn't see this end well. And it was obvious that Tony had never wielded a sword in his entire life when he had drawn his weapon, holding it gracelessly in an awkward grip, like a child at his first weapons training session.
He had almost not dared to look as Njal had started to hack into his opponent, fear and trepidation churning inside of him. If anything happened to Tony…
But Tony had proven cleverer than his adversary, outwitting him with his brain instead of utilizing brute strength. His knees had almost buckled with overwhelming relief as Njal's sword had cleaved that crystal ball in half, and the power of the encased lightning had been let loose and led into his body. And mixed in with that relief had also been a strange swelling of pride at the way Tony had shown such remarkable astuteness and quick thinking.
Still, on the whole, it had been a truly frightening experience.
Trying not to think of what could have happened, he rummages through the cupboard, and, having found what he'd been looking for, heads back out again. Tony is still waiting on the bed, hunched over with forearms resting on his leather-clad thighs.
Gingerly, Loki climbs onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he crawls over to kneel behind Tony's back. Again, he feels a little pang of something as he sees the man's shoulder up and close; it is bruised and swollen, the skin marred by an ugly, blotchy purple. The injury doesn't appear to be serious, but is bound to be painful nevertheless.
Not wasting any time, he unscrews the lid of the jar, recognizing the faint aroma of the familiar healing herbs that have been ground into the concoction. The salve is soothing and cool as he sticks his fingers into it and scoops up a handful.
For a couple of seconds, his hand lingers above Tony's skin just inches away, frozen in mid-air. Then, almost in reverence, he slowly places his fingers on the shoulder of the very man who has just fought a duel with a far superior opponent on his behalf. For his sake. He swallows, and, as gently as he can manage, starts spreading the sticky substance with soft, careful motions.
Tony sits absolutely still as Loki's fingers trace circular patterns over his shoulder, the skin covering the purple swellings hot to the touch. He can feel the contours of the hard muscles underneath, tense at first but slowly relaxing as the salve begins to take effect. There is a sharp pang of anger and disgust inside of him as he remembers the foul touches that Njal had forced upon him earlier. It had been so wrong. It should have been Tony touching him like that, Tony's hands inching their way beneath his clothes to roam over his body…
He takes a deep breath, overcome by the sudden desire to place his palms and lean his forehead against Tony's back, skin against skin, and just inhale the scent of the man, but he resists the temptation. The least he can do for Tony is to properly care for his shoulder before doing anything else. So instead, he continues to spread the salve over the bruised areas, his fingertips tingling at the soft touches.
Having finished, he picks up the discarded lid and screws it back onto the jar, about to put it down onto the mattress so his hands will be free to trail over Tony's back again, but for an entirely different reason this time. But before he can get to it, the man abruptly stands up in one quick motion, making Loki drop his half-outstretched hands back into his lap.
"Thanks," Tony says, proceeding to take off his pants and dispose of them on the floor. "Damn, I could really use some sleep right now after all this crap."
Loki scuffles backwards as Tony grabs the cover and proceeds to crawl down beneath it and huddle up at the edge of the bed with his back turned. "Good night," he mumbles with a yawn, sounding like he's half asleep already.
And Loki can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment as he sits there almost sheepishly, left to merely imagining running his hands over what's still visible of the hard muscles beneath the cover. But if Tony is tired and wants to sleep, he's not going to impose, of course. After today's events, he can't expect Tony to feel up for other activities, no matter how pleasurable they might be. And the man certainly deserves a good night's rest.
"Good night, Tony," he says with a resigned little sigh, removing his own clothing and then lying down on his side of the bed. "And… thank you."
"No need to thank me," Tony mumbles into his pillow. "I only did what was right."
From the sounds of it, Tony is fast asleep only moments later, his breaths rising and falling in a regular, calming pattern. But Loki is still awake, his mind swirling with images from the day. Mostly of Tony.
The man had been so handsome in those Asgardian clothes, and despite his being a mortal, they had still looked like they had been custom-made with him in mind. Not that he wasn't handsome in his usual clothing, but the new attire had just added something extra and showed off his physique in an eye-catchingly flattering way. And somehow, he had managed to look so much more lord-like than most of the actual nobles in Asgard.
And when he had fought Njal, who was far stronger and more skilled with a sword than Tony, he had seemed every bit the hero of those old sagas, striking and remarkable in every way. But it wasn't so much about who he had fought, as who he had fought for.
And Tony had fought for him.
He falls asleep with the image of Tony in his Asgardian garb before his inner eye, and the comforting sound of the man's soft breaths in his ears.
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