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“Alright, what’s this?”
The slamming blur of the bifrost had come and gone, leaving a formation of Asgardians standing on the roof of Stark Tower. Tony grumbled to himself as he flew up to meet them. People dropped in all the time now, and Tony always had to deal with it. Thor was not in the group, but Tony recognized their leader as the Lady Sif. She had been on Earth before, and SHIELD had a file on her. Jarvis showed him the highlights in the few seconds it took him to land and approach the group.
Sif held up her hand in greeting, and Tony flipped up the face-plate of his suit, making the bare minimum of courteous welcomes.
“Lady Sif, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Sif stood before a group of six soldiers or guards. Probably guards, judging by the polish on their armor, although their swords had worn handles and gleamed with oil. Not just for show, then.
Between the six of them and behind Sif, sat a heavy crate of dark wood, with gilded handles set along the sides.
It looked uncomfortably like a coffin.
“Lord Stark. I apologize for this imposition. May we speak inside?”
With a sigh, Tony gestured them into the oversize elevator. He had installed it after the roof of his building had become an unofficial drop-point for intergalactic visitors. The elevator deposited them on a purpose built isolation level with a large reception hall, smaller conference rooms, dining facilities, and a few guest suites. Apparently he was a Midgardian ambassador now, but whatever. He could roll with it, as long as he didn't have to entertain random aliens in the penthouse.
The guards brought the crate with them, carrying it carefully, as though whatever was inside was delicate and precious. They set it down in the reception hall and took up guard positions.
Stark didn't take off his suit. “Alright, we’re inside. Let’s talk.”
Sif removed her helmet and tucked it under her arm, her shoulders stiff and uncomfortable. Whatever she was going to say, she didn’t much like it.
“Prince Thor requests a favor of you. He would not ask if this were not a matter of utmost importance.”
“OK. I’m listening.”
She gestured at the crate. “The Allfather has issued a sentence of servitude for his son, Prince Loki.”
A horrible realization crawled up Stark’s spine. He held up his hands and took a few steps back.
“Oh no. No no! What’s in the crate? Servitude? Are you serious?”
Lady Sif nodded, her eyes troubled. “Thor could not go himself, so he sent me. By the time I found him he was at the conditioning center, and I was almost too late. The mages had already placed the thlydi runes on him, but they were not yet activated.”
“Sif, I don’t know what any of that means. But seriously - is Loki in that crate? Like, inside it? Right now?”
She nodded, and Tony’s stomach turned over. It was a coffin, except the person inside it was alive. He was not claustrophobic, but the idea of being shut inside a box like that made his skin crawl.
“Holy shit. Why?”
“He is not dangerous.” Sif's words were rushed and defensive. Tony pointedly looked from her, to the six heavily armed guards, and then the complicated double-locks on the lid of the crate.
He raised one eyebrow. “Sure, he isn’t dangerous. He killed a lot of people here, you know.”
“There were extenuating circumstances. Lord Stark, Prince Thor begs you for this favor. Perhaps, if you see him, you will understand.”
Sif moved towards the crate, a jeweled key in her hand, but Tony jumped in front of her.
“You know what? Let’s do this in a more secure area."
Behind the diplomatic front of the isolation floor, there was a secure zone. The silent and expressionless guards moved the crate into a glass-fronted holding cell. Tony ordered Jarvis to arm defenses, and then nodded at Sif to go ahead and open the crate.
The tension in the small cell increased as Sif worked the locks. The jeweled key had to be inserted and rotated in a specific pattern, and it took several tries for Sif to get it right. When the locks finally opened, the small snap startled Tony out of his anxious contemplation. The lid opened with a touch, sliding up with no visible mechanism, revealing a dark, padded interior.
Tony stared into the crate, not understanding what he was seeing.
“Loki?” he asked, confused. The figure inside the padded crate looked like Loki, at least superficially. Dark hair and green eyes, pale skin and pink lips, but there was something very wrong with him. There was nothing behind his eyes, no life, no movement. His face was smooth and untroubled. He looked like a doll.
“It is the thlydi runes,” Sif explained. She pointed and Tony squinted closer at the tiny black symbols under Loki’s eyes, along his jaw, on his collarbone. Everywhere Tony looked, he could see the symbols. Loki was only wearing a short, thin tunic, so there was a lot of him to see.
“Until the runes are activated, he is trapped like this. He will eat if food is placed before him, and drink if given a cup. He will obey simple orders, and if he has no orders he will be like this.”
In the crate, Loki looked up at them, no trace of curiosity or concern on his face.
“Does he know?” Tony asked, horrified. “Is he still in there, locked in his own head?”
Sif pressed her lips together grimly. "Thlydi is dark magic, but let us hope not."
Tony took a deep breath, his eyes tracing the intricate webbing of runes that ran all over Loki's pale flesh.
“I hate to ask, but what happens when the runes are activated?”
“Then his conditioning will take hold. Whatever these runes are intended for, whatever role he was being prepared for, he will be forced to perform. I only hope Odin intended him for some service in line with his rank and abilities. A scribe perhaps, a tutor for well-born children, I do not know. But the Allfather has been dark in his rage since the death of the queen, and Thor is afraid of what he has done. The use of thlydi runes on a prisoner is unheard of. If Loki were destined for a comfortable and quiet life, buried in some Lord’s libraries, a few tethering runes would be all that was needed. Not...not this.”
Tony swallowed. He had assumed Loki would face justice on Asgard, but he had not given much thought to what it might be. Imprisonment, probably. He had not seriously considered that Loki might be executed. He was the son of the king, after all, and princes didn’t get executed. But apparently they did get tattooed all over with runes and packed up in a crate to be sent off to a lifetime of servitude.
Tony leaned over the crate, his earlier fears of Loki escaping forgotten. He was in no state to escape. He looked as though he could barely even remember how to breathe.
“Loki, can you hear me?”
Loki’s lips moved as though of their own volition. There was no flicker of recognition in his eyes.
“Yes, I can hear you, Iythur.”
Sif flinched, and all the guards did their best stone-faced impressions.
“Who’s Iythur?”
There was a long pause before Sif replied. “Iythur is not a name, it is a title. It means...commander.”
Tony doubted that 'commander' was the best translation she could offer, but he let it go.
“Hmm. Any reason he would call me that?”
“You must understand, Lord Stark, Asgard is a hierarchy. Everyone knows their place and knows the place of everyone else. The language Loki is choosing shows us that he is aware of his situation, and that he is aware of your rank relative to his. That is something Loki would do. He was always very precise in his language. He…”
To Tony’s shock and surprise, tears formed in Sif’s eyes as she looked down at her former prince. She sniffed angrily and turned away, her back to the guards, to Tony, and to the crate with its unmoving occupant.
Tony let her pull herself together, and looked back at Loki. He had not moved, not tried to get out out of the crate. His face was strangely soft, and the hard, crazed, edges Tony had seen when they faced off in the penthouse were gone. Tony had no idea how long he had been locked in his box, but it was probably time for him to get out of it.
"Alright, how about you get out of the crate?”
Loki didn’t move. He didn’t blink, his expression didn’t change at all. It was as though he didn't hear what Tony said. Sif turned back around, her eyes red but otherwise under control.
“Loki. Get out of the transport crate.”
The direct order worked where Tony’s suggestion had not. Loki sat up and smoothly levered himself up and out of the crate. As soon as his bare feet touched the floor, his legs folded and he dropped to his knees, finding a pose and then holding it, as still as a statue.
“OK, I think it's time for you to tell me everything, Sif. What exactly does Thor want me to do?"
As if all the energy drained out of her at once, Sif sat on the edge of the holding cell bed. Her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, her face drawn with worry and unhappiness. She held out the jeweled key to Tony. He didn’t take it. He didn't take anything that was handed to him, so she waited for a few seconds then set it down on the bed beside her.
"I apologize again for this imposition, Lord Stark. Prince Thor asks this of you as a friend and shield-brother. The thlydi runes must be activated by the one that will control them. Prince Loki was about to be transported to his future - " she paused and then almost spat the word out " - owner. That is why he was in the crate. We took him from the conditioning center and brought him here to you. We will not have long before the hunters find us and try to take him back. The key will activate the runes if you touch it to the central rune."
They both looked at Loki. His head was lowered, his hair falling forward, showing the spider-webs of runes crawling up the nape of his neck. At the base of his skull, a larger rune lurked like the spider in its web.
"Thor wants me to activate the bond?"
Tony hoped he was wrong, even as he said it. He hoped Sif merely wanted a safe place to stash the guy until Thor could arrive, or until she could bring a mage to undo the runes.
His heart sank when she nodded, looking up at him with pleading in her eyes.
"There are few Thor would trust with this request," she said. "And fewer still with the rank and position to defend Loki against the Allfather. Odin will demand you give him back, or sell him to another, but Thor will reward you greatly if you do not. Whatever its nature, the thlydi bond cannot be broken by force. Thor believes that Loki will be safer with you than with any other. He begs you to help his brother. Loki, show him the central rune."
Loki leaned forward in a deep bow, touching his forehead to the ground and showing the full extent of the rune on his spine. It truly was like a vile spider, half of it vanishing up under his hairline. Long sections of tiny symbols twisted and wrapped around the bumps of his vertebrae, reaching forward to his temples and behind his ears.
Sif slipped off the bed and fell to her knees. Tony was very uncomfortable with all the kneeling, but there was nowhere to back away to. With the guards, the crate, Loki, Sif and himself, the holding cell was at capacity.
"Lord Stark, I also beg for your aid. Loki was - " she wiped her eyes, angry and frustrated at the unwarrior-like display of emotion. " - Loki is my friend. We were children together. He has made mistakes but he is not what you think he is. Please. Have mercy on him."
A jarring crash shook the tower, and Tony did not need Jarvis to tell him that the bifrost had opened again. That would be the hunters Sif spoke of, come to shove Loki back in his crate and take him away to who-knew-where, to serve out his sentence of who-knew-what manner of servitude.
Tony didn't have time to think this through, but thinking things through wasn't really his style anyway.
“J, send some legionnaires up to the roof and hold them off. Sif, come with me, but stay out of sight unless things go south. This level is secure but I don't want to leave Loki alone, so the guards can stay. Loki…sorry man, but I can't take chances. Get back in the box.”
Sif didn't protest, but she looked like she wanted to. Tony didn't like it either, but Loki was known as the trickster, and he had thrown Tony off the building not too long ago. Some precautions were necessary and hopefully forgivable.
Loki did not show any emotion at all. He was like a robot, rising up from his kneeling bow and climbing back into the dark interior of the crate. He lay back in the padded person-shaped void without any sign of trepidation. It was deeply unsettling, especially compared to his expressive face when he and Tony had faced off in the penthouse. Tony well remembered his sparking eyes and arrogant strut. It was the opposite of this silence, submission and obedience.
Tony watched Loki’s eyes as he shut the lid of the crate. He did not blink, did not flinch as the lid came down. Was he awake and alert in there, screaming inside his own skull? It didn’t bear thinking about. The locks clicked back into place, and a wash of fierce possessiveness hit Tony right in his gut. Loki was helpless, declawed and defanged. He needed help, and Tony could not turn his back, not even on his former enemy. It was not in his nature.
He picked up the key to the crate, tucked it under his armor, and went up to face Odin's hunters.