Author's note: And so, it's time for the big 100! :D
The next day starts out just like yesterday, with breakfast-picnic on the floor. Thor once more had some princely duties to attend to during the morning, but had promised to return later and spend the rest of the day with them.
Oh well. It's not like he and Loki won't be able to pass the time on their own until then. At least there are no fancy dinners with duels for dessert to attend to for today.
He cuts a slice of cheese and pops it into his mouth, chewing slowly. It's creamy and rich and with a hint of something that he can't quite place, and tastes quite nice overall, like most other food here.
Reaching out for a leg of chicken next, he casts a gaze over towards Loki, who has already finished eating and is now sitting with his legs crossed on the blanket with Frey's medallion in his hands, intently studying it. His brow is creased in concentration as his fingers are trailing slowly over the runes engraved in the metal.
"So, any breakthroughs on that thing?" Tony says between mouthfuls, gesturing towards the piece of jewellery.
Loki looks up, blinking a couple of times as if he had forgotten about Tony being there, and then shrugs.
"Nothing inconclusive. The runes on this are Vanir in nature and as such only fully interpretable to Vanir magic users," he says, shifting back a little. "While there are some superficial similarities between these runes and the ones used by Aesir sorcerers, there are more differences still."
"So no clues, hints, or indications of any sort? It doesn't have to spell out 'evil mind-control' or 'benevolent protection for puny Midgardian' word for word, but you know… something?"
Loki lets escape a soft sigh. "I never studied Vanir runology; partly because such knowledge would be of little use to me without access to the magic used by their kind, and partly because like sorcerers of all races, Vanir sorcerers are careful about keeping their magic a secret from others, which means that such information is not readily available, especially not in another realm like Asgard."
"Uh-huh," Tony says, letting the beer in his mug slosh around with a circular motion of his hand. "I guess it's not like the Midgardian golden age of the all-knowing Internet where you can just type a few words into Google and get more information than you can shake a stick at, huh?"
"No, detailed knowledge of that kind is reserved only for the initiated," Loki says, looking a little wistful.
"Nothing in the Royal library?" Tony asks, fully aware that he's grasping for straws since Loki would no doubt have thought of that already if there was any hope to be had there, but whatever. "No books on… foreign rune magic, or whatever?"
"Unfortunately not. I have studied all the books in the library that deal with magic in any sort or form, and there is nothing about Vanir runology in there," Loki informs him.
Figures.
"Then again, there are some runes here that slightly resemble some Aesir ones that are used for placing wards of protection, so perhaps that counts as a positive sign," Loki continues, holding the medallion out between his thumb and his forefinger. "And at least none of these hold any direct similarities to the ones Aesir sorcerers would use for more nefarious purposes, for whatever it's worth."
"But that's still no guarantee they won't do Bad Things, right?" Tony says, gulping down the last dregs of beer.
"No, it's not."
Well, looks like they won't get any further with this subject either way. For now, he'll go with trusting Frey, unless he gets a reason not to. If there is any weirdness during the audience, at least it should be easy to trace it back to the culprit, being that they're as Vanir as the medallion.
Content with that, he stretches out his limbs with a huge yawn, stomach full of food and beer. At least he can't complain about that part of his stay here, as much as most other things utterly suck.
He sprawls on the blanket for a couple of minutes before rolling over to his side, watching Loki who has returned to studying the inscriptions on the metal. "So, what do you say, should we go for another little sight-seeing stroll as opposed to being locked up in here until the Royal prince gets back?"
Another day, another batch of fancy chambers lined up for his viewing pleasure. He's really starting to wonder whether most of these are used for anything constructive at all, or if they're just there to impress visiting foreign dignitaries and dazzle them with the might and power of Asgard, just in case any of them should harbour any plans of conquest.
It's wasted on him, though. It's not like Earth would be sending off any conquering armies to Asgard in the foreseeable future anyway.
The beer he's spent a good part of the morning drinking is starting to make itself known, a pressing reminder that maybe he shouldn't have gulped down that entire jug. But what's done is done, and it's not like he's slurring or stumbling or anything.
"Any bathrooms in the immediate vicinity?" he asks the god at his side. "I think some of that breakfast beer has just about had it with my presence."
Loki nods. "There's one here just below that staircase over there." He points at a small door, so inconspicuous that it's just barely visible. "It's normally only used by the servants, but if you don't mind some simpler facilities…"
"It's fine," he says with a wave of his hand. "Trust me, I've taken a piss in places far worse."
The bathroom – though he uses that term very loosely in this case – is indeed tiny and cramped, but whatever. He squeezes himself inside, glad not to have to trail back the long way they came to relieve himself. Though, there was always that big golden urn conveniently placed in the far corner of the room… he grins at the mental image. Whatever servant would come around to dust that thing would have been in for a surprise. He pictures it being Arnulf, and it makes his mood lift a few notches.
Buttoning up his jeans again and washing his hands under the strange water-contraption attached to the wall, he pushes the door open and squeezes himself out the way he came, about to give Loki a few useful tips about how Asgard could easily improve on their sanitation solutions by taking a leaf out of Earth's book.
He stops before the first word has left his lips, looking around the room in confusion. Where is Loki?
"Hey, Loki?" he inquires, hoping that the god has just traipsed off somewhere around the corner to contemplate some painting or the other, but there is no answer.
And the flicker of unease in his stomach grows into a wobbling earthquake.
"Loki?" he asks again, considerably louder this time. "Hey, this is no time to play around! Seriously, you're freaking me out here!"
There is only silence meeting him, expect for a faint echo of his own words being reflected back at him.
Fuck fuck fuck.
He spins around, trying to gauge if there's any place the god could have gone off to, but it's just the big room opening up before him, no obscuring pillars or crooked alleys where he might be huddling out of sight.
His heart is beating like a thunderstorm in his ears as he's standing there like a misplaced statue, frozen and unmoving. Loki is not here. What is he supposed to do now? What happened? Did someone take Loki away? There's no way he could have sauntered off on his own, is there?
"Loki!" he yells, the panic in his voice transforming the word into something shrill and piercing. And yet, there is no answer.
No, no, no…
He can't believe it; it was just a short couple of minutes, it couldn't have been longer that he was in that bathroom, and there was no one else around as he went inside. How could this have happened?
His fists are clenching and unclenching in frustration. Loki had assured him that they would both be safe as long as they didn't break any rules around here, and especially after the little show Tony had put up yesterday, no one would question or disrespect the rights entitled to him again like Njal had done in his drunken stupor. Had that still not been enough?
Someone took him. Someone fucking kidnapped him. That's really the only explanation.
He curses himself, hands going up to pull at his own hair. Why the fuck did he drink all that beer? If he hadn't, Loki would probably have been safe and sound at his side instead of… wherever he is now.
A myriad of thoughts are swirling in his head, each more disturbing than the other. What are they doing to him? Is he in pain? Is he scared? Is he even alive?
No, he can't think like that. Not yet. Maybe there's a simpler explanation to this. Maybe… maybe there was some misunderstanding, some mix-up, maybe Loki is waiting for him back in their room…
He swallows down the panic threatening to well up inside of him, only partly succeeding. Thor. He needs to get Thor. That's his first priority right now. Of course, he has no clue where Thor is, just that he's minding whatever princely duties, but his servants should know where he's at, shouldn't they? If he tells them it's an emergency, they would take him straight to Thor, right?
Yes, that's his best bet. Thor will know how to handle this, or at least he can send out some sort of search party or whatever. He needs to get back to Thor's chambers at once and get hold of some servant there and demand that they take him to their prince.
There is no one in the vicinity to ask, but he remembers at least the last few turns they made on their way here; hopefully he'll run into someone along the way who can guide him back.
Giving the room one last long look, he takes off in a sprint, fear and dread churning inside of him.
Once he's made it back to Thor's chambers, after a number of wrong turns and who knows how much time wasted on the way, he immediately runs off to his and Loki's room, not caring in the slightest about the puzzled looks the servants are throwing him as he rushes them by. And he knows it's futile, but he can't help it; it's the last tiny shard of hope left and he's not willing to let it go until he's made certain with his own eyes.
Having reached the familiar door, he flings it open with a sharp jerk, praying that he will be greeted by the sight of a god of mischief reclining on the couch, raising an eyebrow in Tony's direction while asking what took him so long.
The room is empty, the dishes and leftovers from the breakfast having been cleared away, but otherwise there's no sign of anyone having entered here.
Feeling his legs about to give out beneath him, and not just from fatigue after his sprint, he sinks down onto the bed, the last hope he had entertained of finding Loki back here crushed into bits. For a few heartbeats, he just sits there with his head in his hands, unable to do much else as a coil of despair is wrapping around his neck, feeling like its cutting off his air supply.
No Loki… Not that he had really expected there to be, but…
He has to get in contact with Thor, grab hold of the nearest servant he can find and demand that they take him to the Thunderer at once.
As he's still gathering enough strength to stand up from the bed on his still shaky legs, there's a soft knock on the open door, and he looks up, startled.
There is a servant standing in the doorway, hardly more than a boy. He looks hesitant as he notices Tony's obvious distress and retreats half a step before executing a deep bow and clearing his throat.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Man of Iron," he says as he scrapes his foot slightly against the floor, voice cracking in that telltale way of someone having just entered puberty, "but I was sent here by Ulfgrimm the dungeon master to inform you that your slave is in the dungeons for theft."
Well, you guys are probably going to hate me for this, but I'm going to be busy with other stuff for the next few days and have limited Internet access, so the next update will take a bit longer than usual.
In the meantime, please review. :)