I am so ashamed, but.... AU where the Grandmaster full on kidnaps the second Prince of Asgard and wipes/modifies his memories.
Shame, what’s that? :D
1)The Grandmaster is doing his once every half a million years or sotour of the cosmos to see what’s new out there when he comes acrossthis fresh-faced young prince at a party on some planet with a lotelves. Neither one of them was invited, but the hosts apparently willlet anyone into their parties. He sees Loki across a crowded room andhe has to have him. He strikes up a conversation to try and find outmore about him, then invites him to a party back on his planet. Lokideclines. The Grandmaster snatches him that night and absconds backto Sakaar with his prize. No one saw anything, not even Heimdall.Loki is just gone.
2)Loki doesn’t understand why he can’t remember his own life. Ofcourse, his master explained how Loki hit his head after he fell offthe pole he was dancing on and it caused his injury. Loki wouldunderstand not being able to remember the accident itself, but to notremember anything? Whenever Loki asks his master if there’ssome treatment that could help him, he just laughs, “For what?You’re mine. You belong here on Sakaar. You always have. What else isthere to remember?” Some nights Loki dreams of golden halls fullof unfamiliar faces. He doesn’t know what these dreams mean.
3)Sometimes Loki suspects his master isn’t telling him the truth aboutwhat happened. Once he made reference to Loki slipping on a spilledcocktail and hitting his head when he fell. He overheard part of aconversation among master’s other pets about the Grandmaster’s recentreturn with “his new toy.” And then there was the time whenthey were having sex and master said, “You’re perfect. I knewyou would be. The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were mine.”Loki doesn’t know what - if anything - he should do about finding outthe truth. One thing he does know, he hates being lied to.
4)Master treats him well, for the most part. Loki finds Sakaar ratherdull. Nothing but his master’s gladiator fights and games and partiesand sex. He finds few books that interest him. He doesn’t much carefor the food or the clothes, though his master buys him new thingsoften and seems to enjoy dressing him. There no greenery to enjoy, nogardens, and he’s not allowed to wander beyond his master’sbuildings. Loki has little time to spend alone. Master expects him innear constant attendance. Loki likes his master - at least he thinkshe does - and doesn’t want to seem ungrateful for the life he’sgranted him, but…he’s bored. And being bored makes him twitchy.
Meanwhile…
5)Asgard is flipping its shit over its missing prince. Heimdall hasbeen searching every nook and cranny of the universe and still can’tlocate Loki. Odin is alternating between threatening/asking forfavours/but mostly threatening all over the realms trying to find alead. Alfheim and Asgard are on the verge of war due to Lokivanishing on their soil. Frigga visits the Norns to ask them forhelp. They told her - “blood of power can find like blood.”
There has been a lot of pet!Loki, but how about: contender Loki, who lost his memories after the Void. He is found on Sakaar, is put in the arena and quickly becomes the champion. He has the showmanship, the skills, the looks: he is a star. The GM hasn't been so interested in one contender in quite some time, and quickly starts showing his champion some favors. Sakaar ships it, ships it HARD, and if anyone (aka some thunder lord) tries to get in the way of the OTP, there will be hell to pay.
You had me at “Sakaar ships it.”
it’s a love story, baby
Silarrushed to take his seat. He waved at those he knew, but didn’t stopuntil he plonked down upon the cushioned surface.
“Thoughtyou were going to be late,” his friend, Brao, greeted him.
“Nottonight. Not when our champion is fighting.” So what if he hadto hurry a few lingering customers out the door of his shop. Arrivingto the games on time when the champion was making an appearance wasmore than worth earning their displeasure.
Braoalready had his sign imprinted with the champion’s likeness heldaloft and waving. Silar was quick to hoist his own sign in the air.
Theywere not alone.
Sakaar’sarena held an air of anticipation as throngs of people jammed intothe stands. Yelling and laughing and cheering, many holding up signsand dolls and other trinkets paying homage to their favourites. Mostwere for Sakaar’s reigning champion.
Thesewere exciting times for Sakaar. Their champion was a wonder. A ratherunimpressive, unassuming specimen at first glance. Silar was presentwhen the champion first made his appearance. He was always quick to tell peopleso, not that they believed him.
TheGrandmaster’s image had appeared in the centre of the arena toannounce him that first wondrous night. “A treat, a treat, myfriends! This scrappy newcomer who comes to us from who knows where?Maybe he knows, but he’s not saying. Won’t tell me a name either. Iguess we’ll just call him Nameless for now, huh?”
Thecrowd had laughed, sensing soon to be spilled fresh blood.
“Apretty thing, fell right into my lap. Well, not my lap personally.Not that I would have complained if he had.” More laughter,cheers. “Judge for yourselves, Sakaarans. For here he is. Sayhello to - Nameless!”
Namelesswas an ordinary man. Nice to look at perhaps, but not remarkable.Pale skin, dark hair. Encased in dark leathers from neck to toe, decorated with gold plating of some kind. Hewas no lumbering giant. Had no weapons for hands, just a pair ofdaggers. Uninteresting. The crowd had jeered, ready to see himscream.
Andthen the first opponent was sent in. Then the next. And the next.
Byevening’s end, all the contenders lay dead at the feet of Nameless.Who could move almost faster than one could see. Could be in oneplace one moment, yet the other side of the arena the next. Who youcould be looking right at, but then see dozens bearing his likenessall around the arena floor and not know which one was real. Oneopponent got close enough to lay hands upon him, and Nameless madehim scream with a touch to his head before snapping his neck.
Agreat hush fell over the arena. An air of disbelief as so many oftheir favourites lay dead. Including the reigning champion. Then aneruption. Thousands of Sakaarans on their feet, cheering, screaming,throwing tributes.
Nameless,Nameless, Nameless,came the steadily growing roar.
Namelesshad looked around him calmly before taking a bow.
Thecrowd shrieked louder. Brao swore his hearing was damaged that day.Silar did not think he was telling the truth about being present.
Whenthe Grandmaster stood in his overlooking suite, all went quiet.Nameless took note of the crowd’s focus, turning to Sakaar’s leaderand bowing his head. The Grandmaster took him in with a smile.
“Well,it would appear someone was underestimated. I do love surprises,almost as much as I love rewarding them. I grant you a favour foryour impressive performance. And your survival. What can I give you?”
Namelesslooked around him, taking in his victims, his audience. His newmaster. He licked his lips before responding, taking his time. “Aname would be nice,” he said.
Aname the Grandmaster gave him.
“Aname? Hmm, let’s see. You’re very quick. Deadly. Sneaky. Lovely, too,there’s that. Let’s see. A name, a name.”
TheGrandmaster held his hands together by way of the tips of his fingersas he thought. Silar and all those around him leaned forward in theirseats.
“Aname. A name. Shadow Blade? No. Cutting Edge? Quick Toes? No, no. Howdo people who procreate do this? Oh, wait! I know!” TheGrandmaster clapped his hands together in delight. “You shall beknown as - Ripper! ‘Cause of the way he rips through his opponents.Sometimes literally. Pretty good, huh?” He looked around him expectantly as his companions all applauded before looking back outinto the arena.
Nameless,now Ripper, accepted his name with a smile and another bow.
TheGrandmaster beamed.
Silarwas eager to attend the next games to feature Ripper. They turned outto be as breathtaking as his first. As did the next. And the next.And the next after that. So went every spellbinding performance ofSakaar’s champion who moved like the wind with deadly results andclever taunts for his opponents. Always with a majestic bow to thecrowds at the end. Sakaar loved him. And so did - they suspected -the Grandmaster.
Atthe end of every fight, Ripper took his bows until the Grandmasterstood to get his attention. He waited for Ripper’s graceful inclineof his head before smiling widely and granting a favour. As time wenton, Silar began to suspect half the people in attendance were only there to find out what Ripper would ask for next.
Theywere sometimes simple requests. A nice drink. A lavish meal. A newoutfit to wear. Or a pair of boots. Occasionally Ripper would say,“The Grandmaster is as always gracious in his favours. But Ifeel greedy taking them all for myself when you already ensure Iwant for so little. Something for the people perhaps?” With asmile and a gesture to encompass the crowds watching them withbreathless anticipation.
Thefirst time he did it, the Grandmaster seemed startled before blurtinghe would give everyone in the arena currency. That brought aresounding roar of approval that won a smile from both theGrandmaster and Ripper. Over time, it became something of a gamebetween the two of them. Ripper asking for his favour from theGrandmaster be given to Sakaar’s people. The Grandmaster taking histime to think of something different with each request.
Sadly,the one night Silar missed the games was the night the Grandmastergave everyone in attendance an airship.
Thencame the time Ripper asked if he might be allowed to watch the gameshimself. At the Grandmaster’s side. The Sakaarans nearly lost theirminds, showering their champion in trinkets and flowers. When thenoise died down, with a golden flower edged in green stuck in hisraven hair, the Grandmaster granted Ripper’s request.
Therewere so many people in attendance at the next games, it was standingroom only in the stands. Silar could hardly breath for excitement.Though admittedly that could have been due to the crush of people.Some who could not secure entry to the arena were paying others totake them up over the arena in their ships in hopes they could catcha glimpse from above.
Silarcouldn’t remember who fought that night, much less who won. Likeeveryone around him, he was transfixed on the Grandmaster’s viewingroom.
Watching Ripper arrive in the Grandmaster’s company, decked outin stunning outfit of blues and purple, his hair falling to hisshoulders in curls and styled away from his face. He was even wearinga cape! Never had Silar thought watching two people sitting onopposite ends of the same couch could be so fascinating. No one couldhear a word Loki and the Grandmaster said to each other from withinthe private suite, but still could not look away. The arena couldhave been on fire and Silar would not have moved from his place, lesthe missed anything.
Andwhen the fighting was over, the Grandmaster held out his hand toRipper. Ripper didn’t hesitate to place his hand in the Grandmaster’sand let himself be led out of the viewing room.
Wageringon outcomes was always popular among Sakaarans. Though once Ripperarrived among them, there was little point. But after that night anew form of wager began circulating.
Howlong before Ripper took his leave of the arena floor to take his newplace at the Grandmaster’s side?
Silarwas betting tonight was the night. It was a long shot. Brao said hewas a fool. The odds on favourite was six fights from now. ButSilar had hope Ripper would surprise them all. For at the end ofRipper’s next fight after sitting with the Grandmaster - and everyfight since - when the Grandmaster stood and asked what favour hecould grant, Ripper gave the same reply accompanied with a smile.
“Iwill accept whatever gift my lord deems fit to give me.”
Braoswore the Grandmaster eyes glittered at this. Silar did not believehe was close enough to see any such thing.
Rumourhad it there was fresh blood among the contenders tonight. Silarheard one of the scrappers brought him in. The new ones were always arisk. One didn’t know what to expect. If they died quickly, they lefteveryone unsatisfied. If they fought well enough to survive, if notunmaimed, they could make for an exciting fight. Silar was hoping forthe latter. If this new contender gave Ripper enough of a fight, hemight be emboldened enough to ask for the Grandmaster’s ultimatefavour.
AndSilar just might win his wager.
Heand Brao chatted for a few minutes, with each other and each othersneighbours. Silar discovered he was the only who believed tonight wasthe night. But still he had hope.
Thegiant image of the Grandmaster appeared in the centre of the arena.Everyone cheered.
“Well,my loyal Sakaarans, have I a fresh and yummy treat for you! There’s a new contenderin town. And wow does he think highly of himself, let me tell you.But let’s see if he can fight. Bring out the Lord of Thunder!”
Agate on one side of the arena opened to admit a man. He moved slowly,taking his time as he made his way into the arena.
“Hedoesn’t look very impressive,” Brao complained.
“Neitherdid Ripper at first. Just wait,” Silar said.
Inresponse, Brao waved his sign with greater enthusiasm. “We wantRipper!” he yelled.
Allaround him, others took up the call. Silar joined in.
“Ripper,Ripper, Ripper!”
TheGrandmaster’s image laughed. “Yes, yes! I hear you. Let’s notput this off any long. Sakaar, I give you your champion. Let’s hearit for Ripper!”
Theimage faded away as the Grandmaster took his seat in his viewingroom. The crowd screamed in anticipation. The new contender glancedaround warily until he spied another door opening, and he fell into afighting stance.
Ripperstepped out onto the arena floor. The noise increased tenfold.
“Ripper!Ripper! Ripper!”
Ripperturned on his heel in a slow circle, arms spread wide and smiling as he took inthe crowds. He stopped when the Grandmaster’s viewing suite came intoview. Another smile. Ripper sauntered forward, daggers held looselyin his hands to face his opponent.
Whosearms has dropped to his sides as he stared at the other man’sapproach. The Thunder Lord spoke, a single word from his lips thatwas heard even in the seats furthest from the arena floor.
“Loki?”
Ripper’ssteps faltered.
ThunderLord’s steps did not. He took several forward, very quickly. “Loki?Loki!” Another handful of steps and the new contender was closeenough to Ripper to touch. The Thunder Lord’s weapons hit the groundas he grabbed Ripper’s shoulders.
Silarwas on his feet. Brao right beside him.
“Whatare you doing? Stab him!” Brao cried.
“Hewill,” Silar said. “It’s a trick. Just wait.”
ButRipper didn’t move. He stood there, staring at the Thunder Lord. Whogave him a gentle shake. “Loki, it’s me! Thor.”
TheGrandmaster was on his feet now. Across the arena people rose for abetter look. Whispered to one another. Wondered what was wrong withtheir champion. Some booed. Many yelled encouragement.
“Gethim, Ripper!”
“Fight!”
“Riphim! Rip him!”
Thecrowd took up the chant, “Rip him, rip him,” echoingthrough the air. Ripper stirred and struck without warning, plungingone of his daggers into his handsy opponent’s gut. The crowd roaredat the first blood spilled. Silar waved his sign harder. Theirchampion would not fail them.
Thenew contender staggered away, hand clutched over his fresh wound. Helooked at Ripper strangely, like he hadn’t expected the hurt.
“Brother,what is wrong with you?”
Ripperslashed at him again. And again.
“Whyare you doing this? What have they done to you?”
TheGrandmaster stood frozen in his viewing room. He looked as bewildered as Silar felt.
Ripperfought with none of his usual grace. His steps were off. Hismovements jerky. When he did his trick of making himself into many,his opponent knew somehow which one was the real Ripper.
Throughit all, the Thunder Lord kept talking.
“Loki,I know not what is wrong. But it’s all right. I’ll help you. And thenwe’ll go home, you and I. Together. Asgard is in danger and needs usboth.”
Rippermade none of his usual taunts. He growled and snarled as he stabbedat his opponent. The crowd kept up their yells, demanding theirchampion go for the kill. Mood turning unsteady throughout the arena.They wanted this fight ended.
Apparentlyso did the Thunder Lord.
Forseveral heart-pounding moments the two combatants fought full-out.Neither gaining the upper hand. Ripper getting clumsier as he moved.His opponent seemingly trying not to harm him. Talking all the while.Ripper’s movements growing sloppier the more words were said.
Then,just as Ripper rushed his opponent, knocking him to the ground andraising one of his daggers high, there was a burst of lightning thatblinded them all.
Minutes later, whenSilar finally blinked the multicoloured daze from his eyes, he couldsee Ripper and Thunder Lord both on their backs in the dirt. Braonudged him and pointed. Silar followed his direction and saw theGrandmaster staring down at his fighters, a small device in his hand.
Since so many of you liked this, have 1K words more.
“Loki?”
The fighter took a stumbling step forward. "Loki. Is that you?" Another step. Then another. "Loki!"
He has blue eyes, Loki thought absurdly, staring down at the fighter who just kept coming. The crowd jeered louder unimpressed with this display. An iron grip on his arm drew Loki's attention back to where it should have stayed.
"What is this?" the Grandmaster hissed at him, dragging him closer. "You know him?"
Loki quickly adjusted his free arm, gripping the back of the sofa to keep from falling head-first into his master's lap. A not unpleasant experience in circumstances other than this.
"Answer me."
Loki shook his head. "No, I don't. I've never seen that man before."
"He knows you."
"I don't know him." His master's grip tightened. "Please, I don't. You know I don't."
The inside of the viewing room was dead quiet. The Grandmaster's other favourites going still as statues, not wanting to draw his ire.
There was a loud bang against the glass-lined wall overlooking the arena floor. The crowd in the stands yelled and laughed. The fighter picked up his club off the ground, giving it a look of consternation before hurling it at the glass again. Bizarrely, he kept his hand out after throwing it, as if he thought it would return to him.
"Take your hands off him!" the fighter yelled, running to retrieve his club once more. "Release him at once or I will kill you!" He threw his club again, followed by his shield. They both bounced harmlessly off the glass protecting the Grandmaster's suite.
"Oh, will you look at that? He's threatening me." The Grandmaster's voice was amused, but Loki knew better. His face was tight, eyes hard and cold. His fingers dug further into Loki's flesh, hard enough to make the bones creak. Loki couldn't hide a wince of pain.
The glass was hit again. Then again. "Loki!"
"I don't know him," Loki said, keeping his voice smooth and deferential. "I don't remember my time before I came to Sakaar. Before you saved me."
"But the problem is, my dear - he knows you."
Ice trickled down Loki's spine. He knew that tone. The first time he heard it, Loki ended up fighting for his life in the arena below. He'd heard it many times since. It never went well for those it was directed at.
He forced a smile, leaning in to nuzzle the tip of his nose along his master's cheek despite the increased pressure doing so put on his captured arm. He ignored the sounds of objects being hurled at the glass and the yells that accompanied them, putting all his focus on his master.
"So what if he does? I don't remember him, nor do I care to. And why should I? When I have you?" Loki spoke the last words in a soft whisper, his slightly parted lips as near to his master's as they could be without touching. Loki met and held his gaze, matching the Grandmaster's cold flatness with a heated look that invited hours of pleasure. It was a look that took months to perfect and hadn't failed him once.
It didn't fail now either.
Loki didn't let the relief show when the Grandmaster released his arm. He didn't react when his master gripped him by the hair and slammed their mouths together with the same force he's been using on Loki's arm. Loki opened up and didn't deny him anything, making soft, welcoming noises as the Grandmaster attacked his mouth. When they parted, they were greeted by more furious yelling from the arena floor.
Loki didn't look away until the Grandmaster did first. The blond fighter was still throwing things at the glass while trying to jump high enough to reach it himself. The crowds were booing, some throwing things themselves, clearly bored with his dramatics.
"This won't do," the Grandmaster said. He released Loki and clapped his hands together sharply. "Send in another contender. Now! In fact, send two!"
The crowd stop booing and began cheering and chanting, yelling out the names of their favourite champions in hopes they would be brought forth. The fighter's expression turned wary as he realized what was about to happen. But even still, he was slow to turn his attention back to the arena. Away from Loki.
He gave Loki one last, long look. "It's all right, Loki. I'm here now and everything will be all right. I promise." And then he smiled at him.
It was a nice smile. Warm and honest. The sort of smile that demanded to be returned in kind. Loki kept his face carefully blank. The fighter turned away at the sound of doors opening elsewhere in the arena, admitting his opponents. He snatched up both his weapons and made his way to the centre of the floor to meet them.
"Correction, my pet," the Grandmaster spoke softly. Loki aimed a silky smile to him at once. He didn't return it. "You do not have me. I have you. I look forward to reminding you of that later tonight."
Loki kept an appropriately docile smile fixed in place as he righted himself, restoring his casually draped position alongside his master. He smiled and made a pleased hum when his master put a possessive hand back on his leg. Smiled as he watched the fighter who knew him throw himself into battle against one opponent and then another. Smiled as one fighter went down in defeat and the Grandmaster ordered another two sent in, making the fight three against one. Smiled as the crowds roared in blood lust, screaming for the new fighter to be torn apart.
Through it all, Loki kept smiling. Worried that if he stopped, he might start screaming.
