Chapter Text
“Whoa, whoa whoa whoa. Thor—”
“I will return when I am able.”
“—you can’t
just
aaaaand he’s gone.” Tony stared at Thor’s fluttering cape as it faded into the California heatwaves. “Fuck.”
Which left Tony standing there in a Speedo, holding a folded piece of parchment and an alien device. With a crumpled lump of nearly naked godling at his feet.
Might be fully naked, in fact: Tony couldn’t spot even a hint of clothing, only the collar and the shackles and the thin, delicate chains that connected them.
When Thor had unceremoniously dumped his brother on the pool deck, Loki had, instantly and without even looking up, arranged himself into a truly uncomfortable kneeling position that must be murder on his knees. He’d bent forward, arms outstretched as if in supplication, forehead pressed to the tiles as though the weight of the collar was too much for his emaciated body to bear.
Since then, he hadn’t made any attempt to move, or even to speak. The rise and fall of his back, that was it—breath after breath, with occasional bouts of raspy coughing.
Along his sides, the flesh was striped with angry red marks, thicker than any whip mark Tony had ever seen. (To be fair, Tony’s experience with whips was limited to sex dungeons. Maybe you needed a thicker whip to hurt nigh-invincible Asgardians.) Beneath that layer were older stripes, faded scars from previous rounds of the same treatment. Fresh bruises ran up Loki’s arms, some of the skin cracked and bleeding. His hair was a tangled, matted mess that reached halfway down his back, obscuring the worst of the damage; part of it seemed stuck in the wounds. And he was so thin that every rib stood out.
Whatever Tony might have felt toward Loki—rage, hate, terror, triumph—dissolved in the face of the pitiful figure bowed at his feet. Filthy, beaten, starved, and helpless… there was no excuse for this. Tony didn’t abide torture.
Asgard seemed to be fine with torture, if this was Loki’s duly appointed punishment. But was it? Who exactly had hurt him? The pattern of abuse couldn’t be a few malcontents, unless Loki had been captured and held for weeks. But then, Earth was no stranger to prison abuse, so it wasn’t fair to lay the blame on all of Asgard.
Of course, Earth didn’t have the kind of surveillance that Asgard did. Thor had mentioned an all-seeing gatekeeper, and indicated that his father, Odin, also had many ways to keep track of affairs throughout his kingdom. Surely they would have looked in on Loki a time or two. Had Odin not cared about his son’s welfare? Or had he laid the sentence out himself?
God, he hoped that Thor hadn’t been involved. Forced to whip his own brother? Or, worse, not forced—maybe corporal punishment was more acceptable in the Realm Eternal. Maybe Thor had considered it a useful way to get Loki back on the right track.
Tony closed his eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths and fighting down the bile that rose in his throat.
Back on the helicarrier, Tony’s little spy program had pulled not only all the computer contents, but security footage from the entire floating fortress. Later, he’d had JARVIS review the footage and track down any clips of his new allies. Thor had briefly discussed the issue with Fury, and shot down the idea of torturing Loki… but only because he didn’t think it would work.
There's no pain would prise his need from him, Thor had said; the odd phrasing had stuck in Tony’s head. So was Thor okay with torture, just not for interrogation?
Actually, how did Thor know that Loki wouldn’t bend to torture, unless he’d seen Loki tortured before?
That was not the most comfortable thought.
Unfolding the parchment, Tony found a hastily scrawled note… in runic letters, some form of cursive, written with a calligraphy pen or (he could just picture it) a quill. In a language that Tony didn’t even recognize, yet had no trouble understanding, and the very idea of that was giving him a headache.
Truly sorry, no time; I must entrust my brother’s care to you.
Touch device to collar and claim him; he must obey and cannot do harm.
Tony rubbed a hand over his face and groaned.
Claim him. So Tony now held the leash. Why Tony? Why not, the universe loved to toy with him.
Must obey. At the whim of the one who held his leash, then—not that Tony was taking that control for granted. Still, Loki’s current condition had come at the whims of his previous captors. Which likely meant that Loki had to shut up and take it.
Cannot do harm. More like cannot fight back.
Again, Tony fought down the urge to throw up. He tried to focus on the wording: Entrust my brother’s care. Okay, that was a bit more to unpack.
Despite the whole invasion, and Thor’s crack about Loki being adopted, Thor still considered them brothers. First point.
Thor trusted Tony to handle this, without any advance notice. Second point. Tony’s feelings about that were… hard to pin down. He could recall being furious at Loki, and terrified of him, and feeling triumphant (and still pissed) when they’d finally brought him down, sent him up to Asgard in chains. But the deranged invader who’d thrown Tony head-first through a plate-glass window was hard to reconcile with the victim of Asgard’s ‘justice system’.
Torture wasn’t justice, and it didn’t serve the purpose of keeping the innocent safe. Might do the opposite, really: If Loki got free, he might be even more destructive, for revenge. Or because the torture had unhinged a mind that hadn’t been too stable to begin with.
And, realistically, Loki was going to get free. Assuming that the enlightened courts of Asgard wouldn’t consider execution, that left imprisonment (boredom) or slavery (resentment). A bored, resentful trickster god of mischief is going to find the flaw in his containment; you can’t keep him captive forever. So you need some other way to neutralize the threat.
And Thor had emphasized care, not captivity. Third point. As if Loki’s captivity was never in question. Which was odd, seeing as he’d removed his brother from Asgard (which had access to magic) and dumped him next to Tony’s Malibu mansion (the house with the least ability to secure a dangerous prisoner). It felt like Thor trusted the shackles (or the collar) to keep Loki in line.
Again, Tony wasn’t taking that for granted. And Loki would eventually win free, and they’d be back to square one. Unless Tony could somehow persuade him to take a different path.
Dammit, he’d come to Malibu to get away from all the pressure; he hadn’t signed up to be a prison warden, let alone a damn shrink.
Besides, even his best friends wouldn’t trust Tony Stark with this kind of responsibility. On his best days he was self-centered, easily angered, erratic verging on volatile. Not to mention frequently caught up in projects to the point of losing track of the world for days on end.
And if any of the Avengers could live up to the name, it was Tony. Tony Stark did not turn the other cheek, and his love for women and cars was nothing compared to the thrill he felt from seeing a jerkass get his comeuppance.
He’d had JARVIS make him an infinite loop of Loki getting thrashed by the Hulk; the audio alone was fun, just the smashing and the panicked gasps and more smashing and the Hulk’s slowly receding footsteps—puny god—and Loki’s battered little whine. A useful antidote to Tony’s nightmares, and the whine made him grin; it was all the fun of watching Jackass, while knowing that the guy getting pummeled was going to walk it off without even a trip to the hospital. Guilt-free and satisfying, because the guy who invaded New York had richly deserved it.
Besides, by targeting Stark Tower, Loki had made it personal. On purpose, specifically to piss Tony off.
That was the plan.
Not a great plan, Tony had said, running on hope and adrenaline more than assurance. But now it seemed prophetic: It had brought Loki here, helpless, collapsed at his feet.
But why had Thor brought him here? To the care of a man who loathed him, on a planet full of enemies? Maybe Thor was still thinking of Earth as a playground—mostly harmless—but if SHIELD got wind of Loki’s return, they’d stop at nothing to get their hands on an Asgardian test subject (and they likely weren’t the only ones). At least on Asgard, he’d been out of their reach.
No time, the note had said. And Thor’s last words—almost his only words—had been “I will return when I can.” Which suggested one of two things: Either Asgard was under attack (what else would Thor prioritize over the care of his heavily damaged brother? ) or… Thor needed Loki’s presence here to be a secret, and was trying to throw Asgard off the scent.
Maybe Thor was well aware of the danger, and still had to trust Tony to take care of him. Because prospects on the other Realms would be even worse. Which meant that he was on his own, for the moment, and the letter was all the explanation or instructions that he was going to get until Thor returned.
For a long moment, Tony stared at the device in his hand. It was fitted for a hand, like a gun grip, only ringed with gold. At the top was a sliver of gem, a very light blue.
He was tempted to just chuck the thing into the pool.
Loki’s coughing interrupted his thoughts, and drew him back to Thor’s words: I must trust you to take care of my brother. I will return when I can.
Fuck.
Thor better be right about the rest of it—about Loki not being able to harm him. Because Tony was no match for Loki without his armor, and like hell he’s spending a Malibu vacation suited up inside his own goddamn house.
“All right,” Tony said, letting his irritation overpower his fear as he walked up to stand before Loki’s bowed head. “Guess I own you now.”
Loki didn’t so much as twitch.
But when Tony pushed aside Loki’s hair (confirming his suspicions about how extensive the damage was), the godling started trembling, almost violently. Tony studied him for a moment, wondering if that was anger or fear or pain. Or the expectation of pain.
Whatever the case, Loki didn’t move, or even make a sound.
Touching the device to the back of the collar, Tony gathered his courage and intoned, “I, Tony Stark, hereby claim Loki of Asgard. God help us all.”
The gem on the device glowed brightly for a moment before fading away into darkness, as if it had run out of power.
“All right,” Tony said again, stepping back a few paces. “You can stand up.”
Loki didn’t move.