Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3447503.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Avengers_(Marvel)_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Loki/Tony_Stark
  Character:
      Tony_Stark, Loki_(Marvel), Thor_(Marvel), Clint_Barton, Natasha_Romanov,
      Howard_Stark, Odin_(Marvel), Frigga_(Marvel)
  Additional Tags:
      Consensual_Underage_Sex, Sexual_Slavery, BDSM, Submissive_Character,
      Explicit_Consent, Master/Slave, Underage_Sex, Dehumanization,
      Objectification, Object_Penetration, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Face
      Slapping, Humiliation, Rough_Sex, Height_Differences, Consensual_Kink,
      Aftercare, Spanking, Falling_In_Love, being_thrown_to_the_floor,
      Asphyxiation, Rimming, Butt_Plugs, Pain_Kink, boot_licking
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-02-27 Updated: 2015-03-01 Chapters: 2/? Words: 9233
****** The Old Ways in New Eyes ******
by AES
Summary
     In which the Asgardians rule over Midgard like they do with any other
     realm, and steer clear of their politics and business and so on.
     However, as humans are far more inferior to them than the other
     realms, the Asgardians placed a practice of sexual slavery within it
     to stick them in their place and took any humans they wished, to
     abuse and use in any way they wished. This practice has long since
     been changed over the generations, however, and humans now see it as
     an honor - not to everyone's fantasy - but many will present
     themselves and join slave-schools to be chosen by an Asgardian
     Master.
     Howard Stark, once an owner of a huge company, lost his estate when
     his wife died suddenly and he became overwhelmed with debt. To erase
     this debt, he sells his son into a prestigious school to gain money
     and freedom from the financial burden that a child can be.
     Tony is just turning sixteen when he is chosen for the first time,
     but he'd never expected it to be with someone from the Royal family,
     and he'd really never expected this God to be quite so obsessed with
     his consent.
      
     Everything in the tags is completely consensual and discussed
     beforehand.
Notes
     This will not be tagged as 'dubious' or 'non-consensual' as Loki
     refuses to do anything at all, unless he has Tony's full consent. In
     this unviverse, age-rules do not apply also, and there is no
     manipulation or coercion.
     However, if you still believe this fic should be tagged, it is not
     for you, and I respectfully ask that you do not comment on that fact.
     The school, also, does not use force and the only thing that can be
     seen as bad is their mantra/slogan but that is explained further in.
     If anyone wants any other questions answered before giving this a
     shot, please don't hesitate to ask :)
     Also, Tony is sixteen in this fic and Loki is an adult.
     If you do not think my reason is good enough, I will respectfully ask
     that you do not read and comment, if that is the case. This is a
     warning for those it may trigger, but there is no sexual content that
     is without consent in this fic, regardless.
***** Prologue. *****
.
===============================================================================
.
Today's dinner is sake teriyaki and they're actually given metal chopsticks to
eat the meal with. Which is - trickier than it looks, but Tony's dorm has at
least two Japanese men and one of them takes pity on his fumbling and teaches
him how to hold them properly and pick things up with the sticks. He fails,
still, though he does manage a few tries without dropping it immediately but
does still grow impatient with his attempts to eventually; just stabbing at the
fish with the ends instead and biting.
Carl, sitting opposite him, laughs at his face and one of the guards looks in -
watching Tony with a raised eyebrow for a moment before turning away and
sighing - which only sets Carl off even more.
"Shut up. I'm hungry and I really can't be bothered with the sticks." Still
chewing, Tony reaches for his glass of apple juice. The others have the option
of alcohol, but as he's the only one underage juice or water is the only
choice, "And anyway, it's not like this is a skill I'llneed in life."
"You never know," Carl belches into his fist, causing two others near him to
give him a look, "Your master might be into sounding." He chokes on his food at
whatever expression must be on Tony's face at that, especially when he puts the
chopsticks down slowly and eats with his fingers instead, "Sorry, dude. I
didn't mean to put you off your food."
"Yeah whatever." He finishes it anyway, scooping some of the sauce off when it
the taste seems a little too strong and licking his fingers, heading for the
door when he's done. The guard takes his plate and glass, placing it on the
table beside him, "Can I go to the bathroom quick? I want to wash my hands."
"Curfew's in ten, so make it quick." He's led through, and directed but he
barely manages to get round the corner before another guard wants to stop him.
"The curfew for tonight starts at nine, no one should be out."
"I know, I'm just washing my hands. The guard by my dorm said I could." Giving
him a long look for that anyway, wasting more time, the guard finally steps to
the side, "Alright. But hurry it up, you've got an early morning tomorrow." To
make the picture all the more perfect, he could have probably puffed out his
chest a few times and shouted 'I am an authoritative figure' after Tony's
retreating back.
Tony ducks past him with a roll of his eyes, pushing the bathroom's door open
with his hip and letting out a relaxed breath. He does crave the moments in
this school where he can be on his own, no matter where that is, so he locks
himself in a cubicle for a while; timing himself on his digital watch before
pulling his trousers down and leaning forward. The door opens again a moment
later, and a different cubicle slams shut.
This other guy seems to be in more of a rush, and they meet as they wash their
hands, Tony drying his slowly while the other guy only wipes them on his
trousers and practically runs out. His dorm must be further away, maybe.
Tony heads back, smiling at his dorm's guard when he arrives just in time, and
stepping back inside. He switches on the bedside lamp before crawling into bed
and pulling out his only photograph to stare at for a bit. Howard stares back
at him, short-tempered and stern. Maria has a hand on his shoulder, smiling
brightly as she looks down at him. If she'd had her way, he'd be in a real
school right now - learning math and science, gym even. It's rare for a slave
to besold into this school, instead of actively paying for their application
in, but it does happen and it's overlooked because of the so-called honor of
this all. Most are here willing, wanting this, saving every last coin they have
to join in. Tony's one of the 1% that doesn't really want to stand out and are
entirely neutral to the whole 'honor' and sex aspect of this all.
The 1% that had been sold to the school to settle debt, to not be a financial
burden on a single father who couldn't stand the sight of you anyway.
With a glare, he pinches the photo, ripping Howard off of it. He only gets to
the centre of his face, however, before he stops, staring down at the tear.
It's the only thing that he has that shows him what his father looks like, and
does he really want to lose that? With a sigh, he places it back under his
books again, pressing a kiss to his Mother's face before he lies back down.
"Goodnight Mom." She answers him in his imagination, and he settles after a
while of rolling around to get comfortable, dreaming of robots chasing down
every tightly-wound guard in this place until they agree to 'let their hair
down', revealing flowing locks that had been hidden under their hats.
.
===============================================================================
.
The dorm's woken by the alarm blaring through it's speakers, and Tony drags
himself out of bed with a groan. His dorm is usually the first ones up, and
when dressed, they line up outside the outer bathroom - waiting for their turn
to go in. The guard blocks the door, however, until someone lets Tony in front.
He's fifteen, more than two decades younger than the eldest in their group, and
that means that many of them take to babying him and letting him get away with
almost anything; even the guard. He hates the patronising, more than anything,
but being the baby around here has a lot of benefits too. Namely getting the
bathroom first.
He hops inside, taking the first cubicle while three others come inside after
him to use the rest. Once freshed up and awake, teeth brushed and face washed,
he heads over to his class' hall. Other dorms are starting to line up now too,
knocking on doors when someone takes too long while those that aren't morning
people just snap at everyone and clutch their towels to their chests. There are
even some that are still zombie-like, wandering around blearily. Carl being one
of them.
Tony laughs when he sees him, patting him on the back as he walks past and
taking his seat at a desk while he waits for others in his class to arrive. He
isn't the only young one around here, thank god, and there are eighteen and
nineteen year olds too. But fifteen always seems to make people double back for
another look, especially since he hasn't quite grown yet and still looks around
twelve instead. He has a baby face, is shorter than most of the other men, and
he can never tame his hair or style it well enough so he still looks boyish.
His teacher loves that, though, and says that it makes him unique compared to
the other slaves. She hopes he'll keep it the older he gets, until he's the
typical age to be chosen.
That's more of an incentive for him not to, really, but she doesn't need to
know that.
The classes are mixed around here, so there isn't more than two people from a
dorm within them. It's a ploy to get them to mingle, to share and create new
tricks and ideas while they learn the basics in class. When they'd had an
exchange day, and had been paired with someone from of one the girl's dorms,
Tony's partner Natasha had taught him that the ability to surprise his Master
is something that will really secure his position. She'd been with five
Asgardians before, but when her teacher had come to the home to routinely check
on her, she'd asked to come back each time.
"I got bored," She'd told Tony, shrugging, and he'd immediately wanted to know
more.
While he sits there, stretching his legs out, more slaves start to trickle into
the hall. Eventually, when they're all here, their teachers walk inside.
They've never been given their names, and they aren't allowed to ask. All they
can call them is 'ma'am' or 'sir' and refer to them as their personal teacher
only. Tony's is a middle-aged woman, kind to an extent but very strict when
she's in a mood too. She gestures that he stands and head for the corner when
she arrives, and he pushes his chair back to follow her.
"Good morning, Tony."
He nods, "Good morning," She has a wide array of toys with her today, some
wide, some long. They've never done penetration, usually saved for when they're
chosen, and all he really knows is how to prepare himself and work through it
but -
"Oh don't look so worried, Tony, it's not what you think. Now." She kicks over
a chair, "Take a seat." He does as he's told, looking around the hall at the
others. Kaz already has one of the toys down his throat, his head tilted up and
his eyes shut. His teacher has a hand braced to catch should he gag and throw
it out, but he's holding it down. Impressively, judging from the size of it -
especially when Tony looks down at his own and sees it up close. "Are you
nervous?"
"... little."
"That's alright, it's understandable. But you'll be used to the feeling soon.
That's what these lessons are for, right?" He nods, digging his hands into his
knee in both anticipation and nervousness, "Remember. 'Does it matter if you
feel good'?" It sounds parrotted, even to him, and that's probably because it
is. It's the school's mantra, slogan even, and the teachers have to repeat it
even if they don't believe it themselves.
He swallows, knowing the memorised answer and shaking his head, "No. Only if my
Master does." - before taking a deep breath and letting her know that he's
ready.
"Good. Now relax." A small, almost bullet-shaped toy, is lifted first. "Tilt
your head back." He stares up at the ceiling, opening his mouth before he's
asked to and feeling the plastic rub against his tongue when she pushes it
inside. "Now hold onto the end, and keep pushing until your fingers touch your
lips." He swallows again, taking a hold of the nib and pressing. He gags before
it's even near his throat and takes it out, lowering his head for a moment,
"Alright. Keep going until you've got it. Doesn't matter if you gag, but if you
need to stop for a bit longer, let me know and I'll get you some water,
alright?" He nods to his stomach, breathing deeply and tilting his head back
again.
The toy - black in color and wider than three of his fingers - clacks against
his teeth when he doesn't open his mouth wide enough so he tries again. It's
after several attempts where he gags before he can hold it down as far as it
can go.
"Good. Well done." She stands now, coming around behind him, "Now press your
teeth around it to hold, and let go of the nib." He breathes in through his
nose, taking his fingers off of it just before his mouth closes over it's end.
It stays in his mouth and he gags again, forcing himself to swallow it down and
holding himself still. He can do this. Everyone else can. "There we go.
Alright, now open your mouth again. Slowly." She carefully takes the toy out,
cleaning it while he bows his head once it's gone; heaving. Water is given to
him and he gulps until his throat feels a little less raw and he feels a little
more ready for the next one.
"How many do we do for this lesson?" He wipes at his mouth, taking the tissue
from the table to clean away any drool.
"Just the first three. We'll work on the larger ones the further we go in." He
nods, tilting his head back when she lifts another. This one is longer than the
black, pink now as well, and with ridges and a wider frame. It looks a lot more
like a penis, if it didn't have a head that twisted and looks like an ant's
body. She hands it to him, making sure he doesn't turn it on by accident, and
waits patiently while he tries again with this one.
He gets it down further on the first try than he did with the smaller one,
though, his throat working to accommodate now that he knows what to do, but he
still gags when it brushes against the back of his throat and has to yank it
out.
The third time, he has it in fully, and his teacher praises that progress with
a surprising amount of smiling; for her, at least. She directs him to turn it
on then, and it twists inside his mouth, making him gag all over again but he's
okay with leaving it inside, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing as best he
can.
The third toy looks more like an average dildo now, and when he manages to get
it in, she adds, "In and out now. Try it slowly, first, and then get faster."
He slides it out of his mouth like she'd said, forcing it back in, again and
again until his arm grows tired and finally she lets him stop, "Alright. Go and
have a break early, Tony, you've done really well today."
He gasps, nodding, drinking the rest of the water and leaving his seat. It's
lunchtime soon anyway, so he heads for the canteen, rubbing the skin at his
throat as he walks. He doesn't feel like chewing anything, or eating anything
that's not too hot hot, and all that really seems to be there that fits those
requirements is soup. So he pours himself chicken soup from one of the pots,
grabbing a mini ladle and sitting by the window. Some of the slaves are outside
already, lying in the sun or reading. Two of them are fooling around by the
bushes, and he rolls his eyes with a smile, scooping the soup into his mouth.
"Hi," He looks up, startled, quickly moving his bowl aside when another is
placed beside it. His guest smiles at him, leaning back and drinking straight
from his bowl, "I'm Clint. I'm guessing you're new?"
Tony scoffs, "I've been here for a year, actually." Clint raises an eyebrow,
"I'm fifteen."
"Sorry kid, that doesn't make it much better," He wipes at his mouth with the
back of his hand, "Couldn't you just explore yourself for a bit, before you got
older?"
Tony smiles tightly, "I'm not here to explore. My dad sold me to the school
when he lost his estate."
Clint's face falls immediately, and he looks shamed, "Oh shit. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's not so bad, I actually like it here. It's better than living
with him on my own, and I'm too young to likely be chosen anyway." Clint still
looks slightly ashamed at his presumption, and Tony eventually takes pity on
him, "What about you? You here to explore?"
"A little. The organisation I work for, they - well. They thought I could use a
break, mind and body, and what better way than to literally be used? Shut down
everything and just hang on for the ride." Tony frowns, "Well, obviously, I
wouldn't want anabusive one but that's rare nowadays anyway. Asgardians are
becoming less violent the more time they spend on Earth, apparently, visiting
or living among us."
"Yeah I know. There hasn't been a news report of a death or abuse case in
years." Tony adds, "But that doesn't mean you're less likely to get someone
that might abuse you."
"There probably still are some, yeah. But that's what this school's here for,
right, to make you see the signs," He pauses, "I mean. If you ignore the stupid
mantra, that is. Who came up with that anyway?"
"Asgardians."
"Right." He shrugs, finishing his soup in another drink from the bowl, "There's
check-ups anyway, too, so. It's pretty safe."
"You could still be forced to tell the teacher that you're okay when they come,
even if you're not," Tony points out.
"They can try." Tony frowns, "Jeez, kid, you'll never get chosen if you think
they're all secretly monsters." What? So not what he's saying.
"It's - whatever." He stabs at his soup, sending drops splashing onto the
table, "I'm too young anyway."
"Not really. We are all babies to them remember. Age doesn't matter to
Asgardians." Yeah. He knows. "So cheer up, it'll happen one way or - " The
alarm blares above them and they pause, looking at each other, "... or maybe
sooner than you think."
Tony pushes out his bottom lip as he glares again, leaving the rest of his soup
behind and wiping his hands with a tissue while they walk. They group in their
dorms so he has to leave Clint and go to stand beside Carl, height order which
leaves him at the front. There's a buzz of conversation already; they've never
had one so early in the year before, and some of the newcomers stand on their
toes, hoping that this is all because of their presence here and that they were
noticed.
Tony, alternatively, really want to slouch. Or at least, look around and show
how bored he looks with this all. But, unfortunately, he's at the front and
whoever comes through those doors may be able to see him. He has to make a good
impression, for the sake of the school's reputation.
The head teacher, a elderly man, opens the door when they're all here and
greets the Asgardian that steps inside. Many of the slaves' anticipation then
rises when it's revealed to be a servant. A servant means rich, andrich means
more time to spend with their slave. It's what most of them want, why they're
here, but a servant also means that the slave has already been pre-picked.
Most Asgardians come themselves and handpick from the groups. It's rare,
special even, when one is pre-picked beforehand. It means that they're greatly
desired, and if they're returned, are more likely to be chosen numerous times
afterward.
Whosoever is chosen will be the envy of everyone here. Tony almost feels sorry
for them, to the extent that they'll probably bathe in that attention anyway.
He sighs, good impressions no longer needed, and glances at Carl with a raised
eyebrow. The servant murmurs something to the teacher, scanning over the
miniature crowd, until Tony's dorm is pointed out.
The others practically deflate at that, bitter disappointment spilling through
in waves, while Tony's group stands straighter and eager. With all eyes on them
now, Tony makes more of an effort, watching as the servant makes it's way down
the stairs. He looks nervous too, probably careful not to choose the wrong
slave in case his boss decides to punish him for it, but before he even has to
walk any closer, he hones in on Tony and smiles.
Oh. Oh God.
Tony darts his eyes toward the headteacher and he receives a nod of
confirmation from him, looking proud almost, which should feel good did Tony
not feel so weak in the knees for it. "Um." He freezes.
"Get up, there." Carl hisses in his ear, nudging him and after that, his feet
remember how to move. He walks toward the servant, bowing his head once in
acknowledgement. A token is placed in his hand.
"You will be collected in the morn, tomorrow." Tony barely has enough strength
in him to nod again, trying not to look as panicky as he feels. With that, the
servant leaves, and the other dorms are showed out. Tony just stands there,
still, his fist clenched around the token until Carl slams into him from behind
with a shout.
"Youlucky bastard. Who'd you get?" Tony starts, blinking, and opening his hand
slowly. The token's gold, heavy, with a symbol marked onto it.
"I - I don't know." He turns it over, and Carl looks now too, trying to
decipher it before they're both towered over by Tony's teacher.
"Congratulations, Tony." He smiles at her, the panic fading a little now when
she looks down at him like that. After all, what's there to be scared about?
He's trained, he knows more than enough, and if this guy is as rich as his
token and servant suggests, he'll likely be in good hands. And if not, he'll
just let her know in the check-up, "May I see?"
"Sure." He hands it over, watching her lift it into the light, glinting gold
into her face before she then suddenly drops it, "Woah, what?" With a gasp, she
quickly picks it up, dusting it off, "What's wrong? Is, is it bad?"
Carl straightens beside him, still frowning, and looking more than worried now,
"Ma'am?"
"Oh my God, they've - they've never. None of the family has, not for years now.
Before even I was born."
"What?" He takes the token back, squinting at it, "I don't - "
"Your token, Tony." She clears her throat, breathing in, "Is very special. It
means mischief," Still looking faintly shocked, she smiles again, and the flush
on her cheeks seems to be more from excitement than anything else, "Oh one of
my students chosen. How could Mark have known about this and not told me?" She
leaves them then, marching toward the headteacher, and she really must be
flustered if she'd said his name.
"I don't get it. Is this bad or what?"
Carl laughs in his ear, which could mean anything really, but then he then
practically hugs him and grins. He's happy for him, then. But why -  "Tony,
that's the mark of the Royal Family, dude!" Oh. Wait. What? Tony stares down at
it again and now. Now he sees it. The tree, spreading it's branches and roots
all around until it creates the circle that is the token. It's well-made, and
funny that that should be the first thought that comes to mind, "Mischief means
Loki. The second Prince. Tony, you got a prince. How are you not jumping to the
sky over this?"
"Uh - shock. I guess." Which is true. Very true. He got a Prince. Someone
royal, well-known, respectable. A Prince. A Prince who pre-choseTony.
The token digs into his palm when he clenches his hand around it. Oh wow. Okay.
"Um. Guess I - better go pack, huh?" He heads for his dorm on wobbly legs, not
really sure how he feels, and not entirely sure if this is a dream either.
.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     I would like to warn that this fic takes submission to an extreme
     level. This literally a consensual walk-all-over-you-I-will-use-you-
     like-an-object sexual relationship.
     Just to say.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
.
===============================================================================
.
Tony gently presses the only family photograph that he has between the pages of
a book.
He really doesn't have as many belongings here with him, with most of his
childhood possessions still gathering dust at his old home, but he does have
quite a few clothes to gather; being allowed to go out and shop over the
weekends. He packs everything in as neatly as he can, squashing it into the
case that his teacher had given to him. The token sits on the desk beside him
almost innocently and he glances at it every so often, really unsure of how he
feels about this all. Conflicted is probably how he should describe it, but
that doesn't seem to fit either.
Carl's sitting over the bed too, watching and adding comments about whatever
Tony might forget, chewing on a stick of rock candy, "You want to take your
toothpaste?" He asks with it still in his mouth.
"He's a prince, Carl, I doubt he has bad teeth." Carl just shrugs, but when
Tony does think about it a little more, he knows that he'll be more comfortable
with something that he's used to and grabs it from the plastic bag anyway;
stuffing it in with his toothbrush and face-cloth. "Do you think I'll need my
pajamas?" Carl gives him a look. "What? I don't know if I'll be sleeping naked
or not. I've never done this before."
"Yeah me neither and I still think it's a dumb question." Tony looks at him.
"Just pack 'em, Tony. Trust me." He then glares for a moment before lifting
them out from under his pillow and patting them into the section for clothes.
His books go in next, then the bottle of lube that they'd all been given after
their second lesson; along with a packet of condoms that he also puts inside.
They're unopened, still sealed unlike the others in his dorm who've used some
already, and he hides that from Carl when it's packed just in case he comments
on that fact. "You've got about five minutes before the guy gets here to
collect you, by the way."
"Yeah I know, I know."
"Hey, no need to snap. It's not my fault you didn't do this last night like you
were supposed to."
Tony sighs, snapping the lid closed and zipping it up, "Whatever, man." He's
right, he knows he's right, but that doesn't mean he has to admit it.
Yesterday, he'd come to his room with the intent of packing and not rushing it
the next day, but instead he'd just sat on his bed for almost an hour in a mild
panic. He'd been chosen. Chosen. Him. He still doesn't really believe it,
especially since it was a pre-picking and by a freaking Prince.
By the time the second alarm for the day had rung, for the renewal of classes,
he'd not done anything productive at all but had lied and said that he'd packed
everything and was ready for the next day. He'd then finished with all the toys
in his deepthroating-lesson, throwing up just the once when he'd pushed one in
a little too far and didn't take it out soon enough. He'd then been directed to
thrust them in and out of his mouth, to work his throat around them and to
breathe in through his nose. And when he'd finally picked up on how to relax
his throat enough, his teacher had taken over with the pushing. She'd started
slow, letting him get used to it, then thrusting faster and deeper - holding
his head still with a hand on the back of his neck and informing him quite
bluntly that his moaning was a lot better than most slaves and that he should
keep at it. 
He hasn't blushed since he was twelve, but for some reason, her matter-of-
factness had stirred one on.
By the time she'd stopped, the pace had been brutal and his throat had felt
like it'd been rubbed with sandpaper from the inside. She'd then, weirdly
enough, given him a hug and reminded him that he should know enough to
recognise the signs of abuse and to tell her if it happens when she checks in
the next week. He'd nodded, coughing and gasping, and the lesson had ended when
he'd needed more than one glass of water and a time-out.
The couple of hours after that, he'd had to recite the signs of what would
count as abuse. This had all been erased by the stupid mantra, but he'd
repeated his answer anyway, heading for a late dinner afterward before just
collapsing on his bed to sleep.
And now, here he is, rushing around to make sure that he isn't late to the
entrance to be picked up.
Fully packed finally, he tugs at the handle to lift the suitcase, pulling it by
the wheels toward the dorm's door. Carl follows him there but as he won't be
able to follow him completely out, this is probably where they say goodbye.
It's abrupt, he knows, but he really hates goodbyes and who knows. He might be
back next week anyway, and the school can be visited too if not.
When they stand by the door, though, Carl just juts a hand out for him to shake
and Tony snorts out a laugh at the formality, shaking his head and taking it
with his own before startling when it's only used to pull him into a hug. Carl
pats his back twice, letting him go with a smile, "Good luck, Tony. Try not to
enjoy yourself too much, though, okay? You know what the slogan says."
"Carl", the guard warns from behind the door, and as it echoes, most of the
dorm laughs; the others rising to say and wave goodbye to Tony as he leaves
too.
"Bye!" He calls when the door opens and he backs out of it slowly, turning to
face the guard before suddenly freezing. "Oh wait! Um. Can someone quickly grab
the token for me?"
If possible, they all laugh harder, "Nice start, Tony," Haru mutters as he
heads to his bed and lifts it up, tossing it into his hands, "Woah. It's
heavier than I thought."
"Yeah." Tony closes his fist around it again, giving them all a smile, and then
the door's shut and they're gone. He sighs softly, clearing his throat in case
he sounds wet, and spinning around, "So," He looks up at the guard, getting a
raised eyebrow in return, "You going to say anything too?"
He's given a long look. "No." The guard then straightens, pointing, "A senior
slave will take you to the entrance." Tony turns to follow his gaze, but by the
time he turns back around it's too late to stop the hand that reaches for him
and ruffles his hair. He ducks, glaring, but the guard just looks ahead and
smirks.
"Very funny, jackass." He turns around again, then, lugging the case behind him
and rounding the corner toward the main hall. Clint, that is his name right?,
is the one waiting for him, "Hey. What are you doing here?"
"Being your chaperone, what do you think?" Tony stops, looking him over,
"Something wrong?"
"No, I just - I was told a senior slave would take me. You told me that you
just got here, yesterday, so I assumed ... "
Clint smiles, pushing himself off the wall and taking the handle of Tony's
case, "I volunteered for this. Plus, this isn't my first time as a slave. I'm
just not full time but I've had a lot more lessons than you for a lot more
years." Oh. "You coming? Don't want to be late."
Tony urges his feet on, holding the token in both hands now that his other is
free, "Why volunteer?"
"I wanted to talk to you," They round another corner. It's too early in the
morning for anyone else to be up so the roll of the wheels on the ground sounds
far too loud in the silence, "Well. To check if you were okay, I mean." Tony
raises an eyebrow, "You told me that you didn't think you had a chance with
getting chosen yesterday, remember? And you also pretty much implied that you
thought all Asgardians were monsters that would abuse you, so when you were
chosen I've gotta - "
"Woah wait a minute, wait." Clint frowns. "Completely misunderstood what I was
saying, dude, seriously. Don't worry about it."
"It's kind of my job." Well that sounds interesting.
"Yes. Fine. I didn't want to be chosen, not really, but this is kinda special
and I'm not stupid enough to throw it back in a Prince's face. Also, I am
willing to give Asgardians the benefit of the doubt, so I don't think they're
all monsters, I was just pointing out scenarios where abuse could still happen.
Hypothetically." Clint looks down at him as they walk, "Really. I'm not walking
into this with hidden dread. Well actually, okay, I am a little. But I'm also
kind of excited for some reason, and nervous as hell, and I even waxed for
this, in areas I've never - "
"Okay, I got it, please don't finish that." Tony beams, making him at him huff
in amusement, "Fine. I'll - I can accept that. I just - you know. Wanted to
make sure."
Tony sobers at that. "Yeah, I know." They arrive at the main doors, stopping,
"Thanks. I, I do appreciate it." He's patted on the shoulder, and the door
opens when they stop by it. "Really."
"Good. It's always nice to know that people are looking out for you, right."
Tony just smiles, softening it to show his gratitude and taking his case back
as he steps outside, turning around to wave goodbye when Clint backs into the
building again. And then he's alone, in the sun, with two guards standing stoic
either side.
Right. So what now?
Letting the handle go, he lets the suitcase stand on it's own, rolling the
token between his fingers and looking out at the road. Humans drive past on
their way to work, some walking their kids to school, or walking their dogs. A
single Asgardian sits on a bench in the corner, reading from a book that looks
bigger than Tony's entire torso. It's a little mundane, and his whole situation
feels far more surreal the longer he looks out at it all. So to distract
himself, he bounces on his feet as he waits instead, looking down at his watch
for the time and counting backwards.
He's just glanced down a fourth time to check and literally as soon as the
minute hand touches 08:10, a black car pulls up in front of the school.
Tony blinks in surprise. A car? Really? He knows that some Asgardians are
really well-accustomed to life on Earth but he hadn't expected a prince to
follow their example. Or maybe they're following his, actually. That makes more
sense.
The backdoor opens at the push of a button from the servant. It's empty. He
relaxes a little at that, for reasons he doesn't want to think about, and takes
a step forward. It's just here to escort him then. Good.
He pulls the suitcase closer and the servant leaves the car to lift it into the
trunk for him, shutting the door when he's sitting inside. God, it's been so
long since he's been in a real car like this. Most of his travel is either on
the trains with a group or on the bus. When his dad had still had the estate,
cars like this were everyday necessities, but now it's almost rarer than a
human owning gold. He hopes that the Prince has more, because he actually
really does miss them.
Once he's buckled in, the car pulls out and he rolls down the window to stare
at the building as they drive away. His dorm's group is at the window, waving
again, and he waves back with a smile. They turn into another road after a
moment and the school's gone from his vision. A finality.
Instead of feeling like he needs to wallow over it, however, he decides to look
out at all that's around him and try to relax.
Other buildings, companies, and areas that he's never been in before pass him
by as they drive on and he settles over the leather, staring out the window.
The token is pocketed in his shirt's breast, a solid weight and a reminder of
where he's going, but he's easily more interested in everything else outside
than any of his current worries
An Asgardian woman rides a horse beside them for a while, on the pavement,
matching their speed easily which just reminds him of the way a car is
measured.Horsepower. Huh. He smiles at her, ignoring it when it's not returned
and watching her horse instead.
She pulls into a parking lot, though, tying her horse's reins to one of the
stands, and they leave her behind when the traffic light blinks green.
The car seems to drive on forever, only stopping the once when Tony knocks on
the window tentatively and says that he's hungry. He's given McDonalds when
they pass a drive-through, and he eats as they go, packing all the mess into
the bag and throwing it into a trash can when they stop beside one in more
traffic. The sky starts to grow dark just as he begins to notice that the
houses around them now are much bigger than those around the school, and more
similar to ones that he grew up in. Huge and extravagant. Mansions, some of
them.
And they're gorgeous.
Eventually, the more they drive, the more he starts to nod off in the back,
leaning against the seat and lolling his head over it to get comfortable. He
must have actually slept, though, because he starts awake to the sound of the
engine cutting off.
Yawning, he slowly sits up as the servant gets out to open the trunk for his
case and quickly checks his pocket for the token when he suddenly worries that
it had fallen out whilst he'd been sleeping. It's still there, though, thank
God. A heavy weight in his pocket all over again, only now it feels so much
more prominent because, god, they're here. They've arrived.
The door is opened for him and he steps out, following the servant wordlessly.
They're parked on gravel, on a paved driveway that is at least a mile away from
what seems to be the gate at the front. There's grass surrounding them in one
of the biggest yards that he's seen too. Bigger than even his dad's old one.
Loki's loaded, clearly, which is pretty obvious given his status, but still.
"This way, please," They walk toward the double doors at the entrance, lit by
lamps now that it's night, and the servant knocks once. The door opens after a
second and he gestures that Tony go in first, and wow, he isn't ashamed to
stare around in awe as he does.
The place is stunning. It's Victorian looking from the outside, grand and
elegant, but the interior is a mixture of modern and archaic. There are
paintings hanging on the walls and a smooth, spiral staircase leading to the
second floors hallway, but there's also a television set and electric lighting
to an impressive level.
The servant passes him when he looks around, lifting the suitcase and taking it
up the stairs, "Your room is the third to the left. You are free to explore the
house whenever and however you wish. I have also been told to inform you that
your Master will be home in the afternoon tomorrow." So he isn't here right
now, then. Okay.
After the servant loses the case, he steps into a room just by the door and
leaves. There aren't any others around that he can see, and the house is large
enough to warrant some more, so he assumes that this is just being borrowed for
the time being. As it's night, though, he figures he'll save exploring for the
morning after and heads upstairs. He does walk as slowly as possible,
regardless, taking in what he can as he goes.
The house, mansion, is beautiful. The floor's are either carpeted or laminated,
the ceiling white with tiny golden bulbs embedded inside to light the way. And
his room, holy shit, the room he's been put in is breathtaking. The window
alone takes up the entire wall, with a button beside it to electronically whir
the shutters down for privacy, and it opens out to an amazing view of the field
behind. There's also a pool below that he can see, square-shaped and glistening
in the night.
He stares for a moment, giddy at this all, before pressing the button for the
shutters and turning away. There's an en-suite, which is a relief compared to
the many times that he's spent in a cubicle at the school, and the tub itself
is so much bigger than his old room. It's marble, cream colored and deep.
There's also a mirror by the sink, tall and low enough for him to look into
himself, from where he currently stands at 5"4.
The bed, circular in shape, has a canopy and poles to hold flimsy curtains
around it. He feels like royalty when he sits on it for the first time, and
then guesses that maybe that's the point. He opens his suitcase, then, not sure
whether he should fully unpack or not, but he feels too exhausted and groggy
from the car trip to really do anything else anyway. So he only takes the
pyjamas out and undresses, packing it all into a corner when he's done and
curling under the sheets.
His skin tingles as he lies there, staring up at the roof of the bed, and he
can't quite hold back the excitement of sleeping in a place like this. It
reminds him so much of home, if even a littlemore than the Stark's mansion had
been too, and it feels so good to sleep in luxury again.
The blanket is smooth against his skin, his pyjamas being only a short sleeved
shirt and shorts, and he rolls around beneath it for a while just for the hell
of it. It's then that he remembers that he hadn't turned off the lights and
that there isn't a switch near enough for him to not get out of bed to do so.
Hm. Poor planning, he muses when he eventually hauls himself back out of the
bed to find the switch. Once it's off, he pads back carefully, settling under
it again until he's comfortable.
And after calming himself down, he falls asleep in just under an hour.
.
===============================================================================
.
The servant wakes him in the morning by knocking far, far too loudly.
He wakes slowly, confused for a couple of minutes before remembering where he
is and staring about the room like a newborn lamb. At another knock however, he
winces and practically flies out of bed, hoping that he hasn't overslept by too
much. The sun is up already as far as he can tell, and he dashes past the
window into the bathroom to quickly try and tame his hair and gargle some
water. He takes out a mint from his suitcase too, and chews it as he puts on
some proper pants as fast as he can, before opening the door.
The servant looks down at him impassively, "Your breakfast." Tony blinks,
looking down at the tray that's presented to him, and taking it carefully. It's
warm under his fingers and covered to seal that warmth in. "You may eat it
wherever you wish."
"Oh. Um." Tony clears his throat, smiling, "Thanks."
He's nodded at, "Your Master will be here at noon." And then the servant takes
a step back, "Is there anything you wish for me to do?"
This is so weird. "No, that's - no, it's okay, thanks. I'm fine." Another slow
nod, and the guy turns to leave. Tony shuts the door, placing the plate on a
polished table just beside it and turning to the bed. Ingrained habits given to
him from the school niggle at his mind and he immediately starts to make the
bed, sweeping the sheets until it looks the same as it had last night and
pressing the button for the shutters. The pool outside looks even better in the
day and he really hopes that he's allowed to use it. He hasn't swum in a
decade.
When everything is a lot tidier, he finally lifts the metal covering that's
over the tray and peers down at the food. There's a small glass of orange
juice, a fried egg, and some meat that tastes like turkey on the side. It's a
nice spread, and it tastes as good as it looks.
When he's done, he washes his face, taking out the face-cloth and his
toothpaste and toothbrush to completely ready himself for the morning. Seeing
as he's meeting the Prince today, Loki, his Master, he embarrassingly spends
over an hour looking at himself in the mirror and combing his hair. He then
spends two hours afterward putting on, changing, and choosing clothes to wear
for this first meeting.
Eventually, he decides to go with smart-casual and pulls on a pair of black,
not-quite-skinny jeans, and a buttoned baby pink shirt. He then checks
everything over twice, discovering a full-length mirror inside the wardrobe
which is wow, huge. Just like everything else around here. Just like his Master
is likely to be too. He pats at the hem of his shirt in nerves, debating on
whether to tuck it in or not, and in the end he just leaves it as it is and
heads downstairs.
The splice between archaic and modern in this place really has been well-done,
and he admires everything about it while wandering through. From the statues
and busts in the corners to the massive television that's surrounded by soft
white sofas. He hadn't expected to see one realy, because what do Asgardians
even watch. Take me out to Asgard? Or is it just there for porn?
He runs his fingers down it's edge as he looks; impressed. It's black, sleek,
and he suddenly really wants to jump down onto the sofa and relive his
childhood with cartoons, but he also really wants to look around a bit more
too. The thought of going outside beats the TV, and he practically skips around
to the pool, sitting over it's edge and dipping his feet in for a bit. It's
refreshing, the water just the right temperature, and he sighs with his head
tilted to the sun before reluctantly heading back inside to look around the
kitchen too.
The counters inside are wood he notices, but they've been topped with grained
marble to cover that fact. There's a chandelier above it which gives it an
almost homely look. He'd half expected a fireplace too but there isn't one
within it. At least, not in the kitchen, because the living space definitely
has one, along with a huge dining table topped with candelabras and white
napkins. Loki is obviously very into the details in life and enjoys seeing
things as they should be.
Speaking of, he's just about to lift and examine one of the napkins to see if
the initials that are embroidered in black actually are L.O., when he's jumps
in surprise at the echo of a grandfather clock somewhere in the mansion. It
rings thirteen times. One O'clock then. Afternoon. Has he really been looking
around for so long? He honestly feels like he'd just had his breakfast ten
minutes ago.
Setting the napkin down, he leaves the living space and intends on going back
upstairs to look around there too but the front door opens before he can. Last
night, he hadn't put much thought into the way that it had opened itself, but
from this angle it kind of looks a little freaky. Haunted almost. He stops,
turning to see if it's the servant again, but instead another man steps inside.
He's wearing Asgardian-typical armour, green and black in color and has hair
that stops just by his collarbone. He's tall, taller than the servant, and has
the palest skin that Tony's ever seen.
It only takes a second for him to take this in and by that time, the man has
looked up and locked onto him. And as soon as Tony meets his gaze, he finds
himself frowning in recognition and blurts that out before he can stop himself,
"Hey. Hey I know you."
Loki, because ithas to be Loki, only smiles.
.
===============================================================================
 
.
He had just joined the school when he'd met Loki. Loki who hadn't introduced
himself back then so he'd no idea. He'd been fourteen and had still had a lot
to learn if he quotes his teacher on that. Especially about respect.
As he'd gotten used to lessons and so on, however, she'd decided that his
attitude added to his charm and encouraged it whenever the opportunity rose.
She'd still ribbed him out for thishowever, and now he knows why.
It had been his third choosing, and he'd been late to the hall. He'd actually
considered not going at all because showing up late is so much worse, but he'd
still been running toward it anyway and had collided right into an Asgardian
walking into the building. He was unaccompanied, and from his raised eyebrows,
Tony knew that he had guessed just how new he was to the school; taking in his
height, how young he'd looked to him, and the rush that he'd been in.
"Sorry - !" He'd panted, trying to ease past but Loki had just stood there,
giving him a long, unimpressed look, "What?" And then he'd just looked
surprised at Tony's snap, "Uh, could you move, please?" Still nothing.
"Sometime today, at least. Or ... are we just going to stand around waiting for
the paddles and punishment?"
Loki had chuckled then, "Well. You sound like you'd like something more. It
would get rid of some of that bottled frustration." Outside of the school, Tony
would probably have labelled that as harassment and punched him for good
measure, however stupid that would have been. In the school, though, he'd known
how accepted that talk was around it's halls. It was used to judge who wanted
who and who was into what.
So. Naturally. He'd set a challenge, "Honey. You couldn't hit my standards if
you even tried."
Loki had smirked slowly, the grin working it's way across his face, and even
now, Tony recalls how unimpressed he'd been, "I'll take that bet." Tony had
scoffed, like an idiot, trying to get past again, "But maybe when you're more
learned."
"I'll try not to be too bored when that time comes." And then, despite what
should have been his response, Loki had laughed.
"Oh, I'll see you entertained enough. At my feet, that is." Now,
embarrassingly, Tony remembers feeling his legs tighten together as he'd stood
there and listened to that, but outwardly he'd only glared; thankfully.
"I don't doubt that. I just doubt you making it memorable enough for me to want
to stay." And then he'd turned his back on the guy and walked back to his room.
He hadn't wanted to be in the choosing while Loki had been in the building,
sure that he would be picked if he saw him after that conversation, but nothing
had happened anyway. Loki had apparently not chosen anyone at all, though he
hadn't even known that it was Loki back then, just some guy who thought he was
something special. And now he knows why.
Because he is something special. Because he's a Prince, a prince of
fuckingAsgard, and he hadn't chosen anyone that year ago because he'd already
picked Tony after one conversation and a challenge. Oh perfect.
Tony stares at him from across the floor, watching as Loki shuts the door
behind him and removes his outer armor to hang it on the hooks by the umbrella
stand. He can't quite stop his mouth from running, though, no matter how much
he wants it to shut up right now, "Did you honestly choose me because of that
dumb line I gave you about standards?"
"It's nice to see your personality has not changed." Tony glares, folding his
arms across his chest, "And no. Not quite. Though I do keep my word, and I do
intend on making this memorable for you." Tony's glare just intensifies, and he
doesn't budge when Loki moves past him to go to the stairs, "However now,I am
tired and slightly sick from travelling. I only returned to Midgard a few
minutes ago to stay here."
Stay? "So - wait. We're not going to Asgard?"
Loki pauses on the stairs, "If you would want to, maybe in the future. If you
are still with me, that is." He hums, rolling his shoulders back, "But for now,
my home here should do. I thought that getting used to me being your Master
would be too much of a change to suddenly place you in an entirely different
realm as well."
Oh. Tony looks at him, slowly lowering his arms. Well that was nice of him. "
... Oh. thanks, then. For that."
Loki only nods, sliding his gaze over Tony for a moment, before continuing up
the stairs, "The kitchen is well stocked, you can make whatever you want to eat
while I sleep for a bit." Tony turns to look at the door, biting his lip. Of
all meetings, he hadn't expected it to be so casual. "I intend to wake at 5.
Come to my room then and we can discuss how we will do this." Alright. So
that's more like his imagination.
"Sure." Nodding to himself and whispering his affirmation, Tony heads for the
kitchen for a second time to make himself something to eat, mulling over this
all as he does.
So. So Loki had chosen him almost a year ago but he'd waited until Tony had
learnt more at the school. Why? So he isn't an inexperienced baby when taken to
his home?
He sighs to himself, pulling out bread and salami and mayonnaise to make a
quick-and-easy sandwich. He still is, though. Seen as a baby, that is. He looks
young, he's small for his age, and the only difference a year has been is the
numerous classes that he's taken since. Guess age really doesn't matter to
Asgardians, if any human age is young for them anyway. Loki's probably in his
hundreds, so what does Tony's age matter to him?
Come to his room at 5 to discuss this. To discuss what, then? How far on his
knees he has to go?
He rolls his eyes, biting into the meat and sitting down on the stool by the
counter. Despite himself, however, he knows how he feels about these sort of
things. He knows that he likes being submissive, has known it since the third
lesson that he'd had at the school, with how warm he'd felt when the teacher
had described the 'old ways' to them all - ways which are no longer used due to
the harm that it had caused the slaves - and he's well aware of how much he
likes the feeling that it gives him.
He hadn't pushed himself to be chosen for a lot of reasons but one of them is
that it brings out this side in him. He's been told that he's ridiculous, that
it's an honor to be chosen, that being submissive is not a bad thing at all.
And yet, his father's words about the practice echo in his ears still. Coming
from the man who had eventually sold his son to one, it doesn't hold much
ground, but it still sits in his brain and eats away occasionally.
He swallows, biting his tongue accidentally on his next bite, and sitting there
for almost half an hour just thinking this all over. Well. If anything doesn't
feel right, he can always call the school, right. Prince or no Prince.
Tony sighs, propping his cheek up on a fist. And besides, he's more than a
little curious about how Loki intends on making this memorable too. That had
been the challenge he'd presented after all.
.
Chapter End Notes
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