Chapter 3
Loki awoke in The Grandmaster’s bed, sweaty and hungover. Loki massaged his temples, and glanced over to The Grandmaster laying on the other side of the bed.
Loki sat up, he needed a shower. Loki wandered into the bathroom, and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Yikes, he looked even worse today than he did yesterday. His hair was still a tangled mess. He had regained a bit more color, though, but his face was sweaty and shiny. If the Grandmaster saw him like this he would probably dump him on the spot.
He removed the bandages covering his stab wound. His regenerative healing ability was closing the wound quite nicely, and he assumed that by this afternoon it would be nothing more than a thin scar. He took a shower, and oh how good it felt to wash his hair. Once he was finished, he peered back into the bedroom. The Grandmaster was still asleep. Good, he thought. He might not like what Loki was about to do.
Loki dug around through The Grandmaster’s drawers. Ah, what to wear, what to wear. It didn’t matter, really, as he was going to change their appearance with his magic anyway, he was really just looking for whatever looked most comfortable.
After finding something suitable, he went back to the mirror and reflexively put on one of his usual clothing spells. The usual, black and green, long overcoat, gold accents. But for some reason, they made him...uncomfortable. So much so that he lifted the spell almost immediately.
His signature colors made him sick. They just reminded him of his sister, and the life he was avoiding returning to. He felt almost shameful wearing gold. Gold, a symbol of the very people he was abandoning. No, no he would have to come up with something new. He tired conjuring a blue and yellow look, similar to what he wore yesterday. Hm, the blue was growing on him. It brought out his eyes and reminded him of his mother, who wore blue often. Loki had always hated the color blue, on principle. He couldn’t stomach the sight of his ownblue skin most of the time, but maybe it was time to let old prejudices go.
Next he got rid of the coat. He never even knew why he always chose these long concealing jackets. His figure wasn’t bad, and he was sure his new beau would love to see it. But, as soon as it was gone, he was reminded why he always hid behind his coats. Loki looked at himself and scoffed. He was far too skinny. His shoulders, hips, everything, were far too dainty. When he and Thor were small, Thor, would tease him for his appearance, saying things like, “Even your masculine form has a woman’s figure!” to which even Lady Sif would respond, “No, I would faint if I or any of the Asgardian women I know had hips that small.”
And it wasn’t just the teasing, either. Whenever they fought, Thor, with his superior physical strength, would shove him into the ground, and mock him for his twig-like arms. Even as recently as the past few days, Thor had no problem with shoving Loki around, simply because he could and because Loki was too weak to stop him.
Loki chased the thoughts from his mind. It wasn’t good to taint the memory of the dead like that. Thor didn’t mean it. He never did, and he had since apologized for saying such things to him. Loki loved Thor, despite his brutish attitude. And besides, without Thor’s mocking, he may have never gone into sorcery. It was all for the best, really.
Loki loosened his outfit, ever so slightly.
Loki returned to the bedroom, and found The Grandmaster, waking up and getting ready.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Loki asked, kissing him on the cheek.
“Another party.”
Loki scoffed, “Another party? Is that all you do here on Sakaar?”
“Of course. It’s fun, and I have nothing better to do. Why would I want to do anything else?”
“Don’t you ever...have politics you need to attend to? For being the ruler of a planet?”
“Oh!” The Grandmaster smiled, “Of course I do! Oh, yes, excellent, hopefully you’ll get to see that side of my job today.”
--
Loki didn’t know exactly what he expected, but it wasn’t this. Loki stood behind The Grandmaster, who was sitting in one of his armchairs. With a large stick in his hand. He had just melted the man sitting in the chair. Loki was horrified, but impressed. It took a certain kind of power to show absolutely no emotion--except a sort of childish glee--when murdering someone who had wronged you.
“See?” The Grandmaster smiled up at him, “I do politics.”
Loki gulped, “Y-yes, I suppose you do.”
“So,” The Grandmaster cooed, “What now. A drink?”
Loki chuckled, “I try to wait at least twenty four hours between my bouts of heavy drinking.” Loki considered his still pounding headache, “Actually, perhaps something mild. I’m still hungover.”
“You heard him,” The Grandmaster said to Topaz.
Topaz yelled at the bartender, “Get The Grandmaster his usual, and the floozy something weak.”
Loki furrowed his eyebrows as he looked up at Topaz, “I don’t think she likes me.”
“Who, Topaz? Oh well. She’s not usually too fond of my boyfriends. But she won’t bother you as long as I tell her not to.”
“Does she like...anyone?”
The Grandmaster shrugged, “She likes me.”
Loki sighed, leaning against a wall and sipping his drink. He wondered how partying every day didn’t get boring, but to each their own, he supposed. He watched The Grandmaster from across the room, mingling with his friends of varying species and appearances. The Grandmaster seemed to natural in these social situations. Loki supposed he was doomed to be a wallflower forever. He loved attention, but getting it? That was the hard part.
Loki peered around the party. It was that Scrapper again! He began walking towards her. This would be his chance to figure out what was so special about her.
“Loki!” The Grandmaster beckoned him over before he could get to her.
Loki sighed. He supposed she would have to wait, and began walking over to the Grandmaster instead, “Yes? What is it?”
The Grandmaster put his arm around Loki’s hips, “This is him, I found him in my throne room the other day, spying on me.”
His friends gawked at Loki, who couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. He loved attention and he loved compliments, but he didn’t love being flaunted like an accessory.
“Yes, well, I’m only staying for a while, then I really must be going.”
The Grandmaster rolled his eyes, “He’s just shy, he loves it here.”
Loki grunted.
“Come, dance with me.” The Grandmaster whisked Loki away, and soon, they were dancing.
The Grandmaster stood behind Loki, his arms around his waist, kissing his neck, slowly grinding his hips into his. Loki’s face felt hot. How can he just do this, right in public, with everyone watching? Loki looked around, and found that no one was watching. Ha, of course. The Grandmaster must do this sort of thing so often it must not surprise anyone here anymore. Loki sighed, and tried to let himself relax and enjoy himself. He had been on edge a lot since he had arrived on Sakaar, and all this stress couldn’t have been good for him.
Loki relaxed his nerves, and continued gently swaying back and forth, enjoying the Grandmaster’s touch, his hot breath on his neck, his hand around his hips. Loki felt safe, he felt taken care of, he even found himself feeling...happy.
But, as Loki did whenever he found himself getting happy, found the powerful urge to run from that happiness.
“Enough,” Loki took a step away from The Grandmaster, “Grandmaster, please. If you care about me at all, please promise that I can leave this planet. My people--they...they must be missing me.”
The Grandmaster raised an eyebrow, and put his hand on his hip, “You are not a prisoner here. You never were. But answer me this,” He sat down at a table, and beckoned Loki to sit beside him. Loki continued standing. “Why do you want to leave?”
Loki was puzzled. What did he mean? “I’m a king, I can’t just abandon my people.”
“Why not?” The Grandmaster continued, “You don’t seem to be the terribly sympathetic type, and your people will never find you here. You will be treated far better here than anywhere else. So what is so special about out there? What do you have there that you could not have here? Is there a person? Someone back home, who you would miss?”
Thor’s corpse flashed through Loki’s mind, “N-no.”
The Grandmaster smiled, “Then why go back? You will be loved here far more than you would be anywhere else. By me and all of Sakaar.”
Loki bit his lip. He was right. The Grandmaster was exactly right, and Loki couldn’t stand it. There was nothing he could do about Asgard’s doom. Going back would just be flying to his death. And here...he was happy. Happier than he had been in a long time. Asgard was a lost cause. Thor was dead. All his friends were dead. And the people must hate him for lying to them. Even if he did go back. He had...no one. But then again, did he ever?
Loki sighed. Staying here was the cowards way out. But Loki supposed he was just the biggest coward of them all.
Loki held out his hand to The Grandmaster. “Come,”
“Where are we going?”
“To finish our dance.”
The Grandmaster smiled, and he and Loki danced together for hours. Loki found he enjoyed dancing to this kind of music. On Asgard, music consisted mostly of long classical ballads. Musical masterpieces, but painfully dreary. Loki had heard other music in his travels, but he never had the time to enjoy it. Not like this, anyway. Nothing he had ever done was like this.
Hours later, Loki found himself dozing off on The Grandmaster’s shoulder.
“Tired?” The Grandmaster smiled, kissing his forehead, “Maybe we should...go to bed.”
Loki smiled, this part always excited him. If he had planned on staying here, on Sakaar, he might as well prove it. “Lead the way, Grandmaster.”
Loki had not made love with anyone in far too long. Who could blame him? He had been busy. Ruling a kingdom disguised as your father was a full time job. No, Loki hadn’t had the chance to (excusing the expression) blow off some steam in a while. So his long night with The Grandmaster was well spent.
“Ah,” The Grandmaster moaned, “You bite like a viper, my dear.”
Loki was pinned to the bed, the Grandmaster pulling his hair. Sex with Loki, as the Grandmaster was quickly realizing, had developed into much more of a close-range combat-zone than he had been expecting. But he wasn’t complaining. Any pain dealt to him he simply returned to Loki tenfold, which also seemed to be was Loki was aiming for. Even though Loki was bottoming, the Grandmaster felt as if the he was oddly still the one in control, which was a nice change of pace for him. It kept the Grandmaster on his toes, to say the least.
But late that night, long after they had finished, Loki couldn’t help but lay awake. The Grandmaster lay, snoring beside him, and Loki, feeling satisfied and drowsy, couldn’t help but think of the suffering of his people. The pain they must be in. It may have all started as a lie, but he had sworn to protect them. To lead them, as their king. Where did they think he was? Probably dead. Met with the same fate as Thor. Dying heroically to protect Asgard with his last breath. And where was he? Becoming the next floozy of the man who pitted creatures against one another in an arena for sport. For nothing more than the fun of it all.
Loki looked over to the sleeping Grandmaster. He could leave, right now. But he didn’t. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was scared. The Grandmaster, as intimidating as he was, had taken a liking to him. Loki was safe with him, as long as he kept fucking him. Not only that, but he could live by his side as ruler of this planet.
Loki had done terrible things in the past. He knew he had. But now...perhaps most despicable of all, he was here, and enjoying himself.
Loki was afraid of what was out there. He was afraid of his sister, and other beings that might wish him harm, and...he was afraid of himself. He spent the last four years hiding from his own face. Hiding from the monster that destroyed New York and brought ruin to Jotunheim. Hiding from what the people of Asgard must think of him. Of what his parents would think of him, if they could see him. Of what Thor must think of him.
The Grandmaster snorted in his sleep, and Loki looked over at him. If he was going to stay here, then none of that mattered. The Grandmaster didn’t know what he had done. And Loki suspected that even if he did, he wouldn’t care much. Loki closed his eyes, trying to rid his mind of the faces of his dying people, to try and sleep. He had a clean slate here on Sakaar, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to use it.