fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

"You could try to sugar coat it a little," Anthony wrinkled his nose and the. Introduced himself and Steven before impetuously climbing up to the bottom of Bruce's bed. He was immediately taken with the older man, at the way he held himself and how easy it felt to talk to him. Anthony hadn't been exposed to many older Midgardians in his life. The guardians, sure, but they were authority figures. Trainers. They gave orders and Anthony was expected to follow them. He never saw instruction as a means to help him out actually. Perhaps that ought to have been something instilled in him when he was young but it never had been. Some spirits could not be muted or quelled. And the bright eyed nearly-twenty year old was one of those spirits.

"I know the basics. I lived in the village since I was four. And Steven can run circles around me serving. Literally. I just-- I've never been anywhere else. Does Prince Loki travel a lot? I guess he does. That makes sense. But when you say he has moods--"

Anthony leaned in. Some people had absolutely no sense of physical space. He smelled like lavender and milk and honey. Like a freshly bathed prized pig. One who didn't actually know how to be a pig.

"I learn fast. So just throw it all at me and I promise most of it will stick."

Anthony could be intense when he was passionate. Bruce was in for one hell of a day.

Lucky for both Steven and Anthony, Bruce was an exceptionally intelligent man with a calm manner and a way of explaining things that made it easy to grasp. He had been a royal slave for many years, well before both were born, and this palace felt as much like his home as it did his place of work. He had a quiet pride about him, he loved his work and his masters, and rarely had cause to wish for a different life.

"The first task both of you need to do is familiarise yourself with the palace. Every corridor, every room, every back staircase. You need to know the fastest route from any location to any other location, because if your master calls for you or sends you on a task, that needs to be completed quickly."

He could go through finer points of serving, or what things to never ever touch in Loki's rooms, at a later point since he assumed that he had until Thor's birth celebration to bring them up to scratch.

"The most important one for you to master tonight, Anthony, is the kitchens to the library, or the kitchens to Prince Loki's chambers, because he is often too engrossed in his own studies to join the feast hall for a formal meal. You'll need to anticipate when he should eat and make sure there is food available that's still hot and appetising. How proficient are you at horseback riding and melee combat, you'll need both of those to be Loki's slave."

Bruce couldn't tell whether Anthony would be a good fit for Loki yet, but he could already tell that Steven would be perfect for Thor. He radiated goodness and honesty and eagerness, Thor would undoubtedly love him.

No one undoubtedly loved Anthony. It wasn't that he hated hard work, he just wanted to choose his hard work. That had been easier at the unclaimed village, he was realizing now. Loki would not be easy. Learning to anticipate the needs of others when he himself could become so engrossed in a task that he forgot to go to the gathering hall for food at the appropriate times. He'd often gone hungry. Maybe he could use that to his advantage, though Asgardians had a different immune system and constitution to Midgardians. He could likely go for days without a meal. But would he want to?

Anthony blanched at the thought of horseback, but not at the thought of combat. Battle could be fun. He thought about it often enough because he had always assumed that he would join the foot soldiers instead of the toilets if he was forced to leave the villi age without a master or without being wanted by the large land owners that bought slaves by the cart full to harvest and dispose of when their working capabilities were used up.

"Kitchen to the library and his chambers. Got it. Shit. You know I promised he would never regret picking me. Do you think you can show us where the kitchens are from here? And can I borrow some parchment? I'll make a map."

He wouldn't draw it. He'd just mark down the turns and the approximate amount of steps. His mind was mathematically inclined thankfully.

That was a really stupid promise to make, because no slave could ever be so good that there would never be a regret. Even more so, Loki was an unpredictable element that no other in the palace quite was, he shunned routine and he pushed the boundaries more than any other. Bruce looked a little taken aback, but he just nodded.

"Prince Loki is given to practical jokes and tricks, some of which earn him punishment from the All-Father. You'll need to learn the balance between loyalty to your master, and loyalty to the All-Father. His temper can be legendary, but his generosity to those who treat him well can also be heard whispered of."

Bruce actually had a soft spot for Loki. He could see how the second son felt inferior sometimes, and that his tricks were not often malicious in nature. Sometimes they were, and increasingly so as he grew older, but not always.

"He travels more than Prince Thor and does not always require the Bifrost to do it, so you had better become comfortable with magic very quickly. Sometimes he takes female form, do not comment on it, his magic just allows him to be in whatever form he finds more pleasing that day. Questions?"

This was all delivered as he began to lead them through the corridors towards the kitchens. The palace was a labyrinth, literal miles of corridors and ornate rooms, but Bruce knew them all intimately after so long here.

"I saw him clear away an entire room with the sweep of his hand. Is he a very powerful sorcerer then?" Anthony was sheltered. Anyone in the slave village was. They had little opportunity to visit with true Asgardians and when they did, it was to impress them in hopes of being chosen. Most of the slaves were often just chosen by other slaves, which was a harder sell since beauty or impulse buys (like Anthony thought he was) didn't happen all that often.

Steven kept pace behind them but Anthony boldly walked next to the older slave as if he belonged there. He'd slept through the lessons about pacing one's self evidently to allow the older and wiser to lead the way. He spoke with animated gestures, constantly asking what this or that did or what this or that room was.

Curious. Perhaps to a fault.

"Bruce," he asked, out of turn as they headed down some stairs towards the kitchens. "Did you know my father? He worked in Odin's service. His name was Howard."

He always wondered why he was given up. Most masters kept the children of their favored slaves. Anthony had no idea that his parents did not die of old age. They didn't know that Odin planned to keep him until his Ravens went whispering about his future.

Favoured slave he might have been, but that didn't mean that Bruce was privy to all the secrets of the All-Father's life. He vaguely remembered Howard, but he hadn't even realised that the man had fathered a son, and he had been on Alfheim when he had died and so he hadn't even known the circumstances of his death.

"I met him a few times, but we worked in very different areas of the All-Father's service. I'm not sure there are many people around who might have met him, but from what I remember he was a talented innovator and often worked with the dwarves when they came on specific projects."

Coming to a halt outside the kitchens, Bruce leaned in and lowered his voice a little.

"This is the entrance for slaves or servants collecting meals for the immediate royal family only, come in through here and you'll be served immediately. There's another entrance down the corridor for everyone else who needs meals."

Anthony was a little disappointed. He'd always wanted to meet someone that knew his dad. It was really interesting to learn that he had been an inventor and liaison to dwarves, though. He'd never met a dwarf but Loki might be the most powerful sorcerer in the realm and their travels could take them to all the realms eventually. He was excited. Painfully so.

"What sorts of foods does my master like? Is he picky? What keeps warm the best? How do I make sure he eats? Oh Odin's beard, this jerkin is so tight!" Anthony had too many questions but Bruce proved himself to be kind and patient and Anthony looked at him like a puppy, eyes almost too big for his face.

He gripped Bruce's hand after all of his questions had been answered and tugged him in the direction he assumed the library was. Slaves in black tunics walked passed them, heads tilted curiously at Bruce as he enterained a young slave. That wasn't too strange. He had been mentor to many of them.

"What color ink does Prince Loki write in? Does he need to be reminded about sleep as well? What do I do if he tricks someone important but it's harmless and funny? Am I allowed to laugh?"

Bruce was the best person to mentor anyone, even someone as excitable and headstrong as Anthony. Steven, good student as always, was absorbing all this knowledge without asking too much on top and just trailing the both of them. He made sure to smile at all the other slaves, he was a natural genial person who liked to make friends and if this was to be his home then he wanted to be friends with everyone here.

Anthony got all his questions answered and more - Loki preferred fish, he liked spiced foods, would always take wine over mead, and he probably shouldn't laugh because that would be taken as an offence by most anyone. By the time Bruce delivered Anthony back to Loki's chambers and took Steven off to the barracks where all palace slaves slept, he had been taught much.

Loki was sat inside his chambers when Anthony entered, a book open in front of him and a piece of metal writhing on the table as though as malleable as a snake, green light pulsing in the dim room now that the sun had set and no lights had been lit. He did not even look around when the door opened.

"That's amazing."

In two words, Anthony had managed to put every little criticism in his book, written by instructors and guardians, in the truest of lights. He did not kneel and wait to be called upon. He did not use the time to familiarize himself with the room or with the Prince. He just moved right up to the desk to lean over the edge and peer at the project Loki was engrossed in. And what was more, his words didn't stop. Anthony liked to speak. And Loki preferred his quiet.

"Bruce was very insightful. I know my way to the kitchens and the library now." He was proud of that. Boastful. He was looking for praise, or perhaps he just liked to hear his own accomplishments spoken out loud. "Are you doing metal working or magic? Or both? It's beautiful."

In truth, Loki did not mind not being knelt to when they were alone in his chambers, it was an unnecessary affectation that would slow everything down. But if Anthony failed to give proper respect outside of these chambers, Loki would be singularly humiliated and the slave's life would be forfeit before the day was out. But what caused a frown to mar his brow was the way Anthony spoke to him as though they were friends on an equal footing.

The green light disappeared around the metal, leaving it in a twisted and unnatural shape, and engulfed Anthony instead. He would feel the sharp pain of having his lips sewn with magical thread - a significantly lighter pain than if it had been real thread, there was no blood and no permanent damage.

"We are not childhood friends, Anthony," said Loki in a deceptively quiet voice, clear warning an undertone. "We are not equal, and you do not have the right to question me on any of my activities. I do not plan to be a cruel owner, but never doubt that I am your owner and you may not treat me in so casual a manner. Your spirit is interesting, but be wary that spirit does not become arrogance. Have the intelligence to know your place."

Pain didn’t bother Anthony. No one spared him the rod when he was doing something incorrectly. He even assumed that Loki would punish him if he stepped out of line. He just didn’t expect to be reprimanded already. Or cruelly. The words bit at him more than the magical thread meant to keep his mouth shut. He’d never had a childhood friend, Steven aside, who didn’t count because he was friends with everyone, and so Anthony hadn’t realized he was being so familiar.

It was a huge blow to his ego and prompted a moment of defiance, just a moment, a warring behind his eyes, before he knelt and bowed his head. It was a good thing no one else was here to see this. His instructors would likely tisk and whisper that they knew he was no good and ill suited for this life. He’d ruin his chances just as soon as he had them.

The defiance in his soul shifted instead to desire to prove those people wrong. He let this humiliation teach him that it couldn’t happen again. Not with the prince.

He wasn’t sure how to apologize with his mouth magically clamped shut, so he sat back on his heels and just waited, shoulders slumping. He was making a mess of everything. No wonder Odin gave him away as a child.

Loki did not have many friends either. He had his brother, who was the one he could be sure among his peers who loved him truly, and a quiet but solid friendship with Sigyn. But no others. Amora was a wildfire like him, they could not be true friends because they always looked out for their own interests, and nobody else cared enough about him. They fawned over him if they were of low enough status, making out to be friends to gain favour, but they whispered behind his back and reviled magic.

He may have understood Anthony, but that understanding would have to come in time. He was also a very proud creature who knew his own worth and place in the world, and it would take much time to bring him around to the idea of a friendship with what amounted to property just as much as his books were his property.

"I do not require such obeisance as others may demand, but when we are outside these chambers you must show the proper respect. I will not be shamed by your behaviour, and you will not survive my displeasure in that regard. Some questions may be permitted, I enjoy your enthusiasm, but you must learn what is appropriate."

He flicked his fingers and the invisible thread disappeared once more, leaving Anthony's lips free.

"Are these things understood?"

He had been much more lenient than others would be, and he watched Anthony's face for resentment that he had been punished at all, for that would be deadly in a slave. Nobody could do anything with property that did not understand its place.

Resentment? No. Just sheer and unabashed anger turned inwards at himself. He had never had to try for any of this and that scared him now that he wasn’t equipped to be a good servant. Not that he really wanted to be, of course, but he had to work his way up. There was no one better for this experience than Loki and so Anthony needed to step up his game. Bruce had warned him. Fifteen years of instructions at the unclaimed village had warned him. He needed to do something about his stubbornness, quickly, or he would find himself toiling for the dwarves in ways different from his father.

The sharp snap of pain from his lips caused Anthony to lift his fingers towards them before he nodded. Nodding, however, wasn’t going to cut it this time and he immediately followed that up with a: “yes, my Prince,” perhaps two beats off in his timing. He hoped it didn’t show too badly.

Keeping his mouth shut would be a slight problem, but Anthony was tenacious and he would get what he wanted. Hopefully without getting him killed in the process.

Anthony lifted dark eyes to just watch Loki at his elbow but did not attempt to rise.

"I have never had a personal slave before," said Loki, voice soft as he moved from the chair he had been working on to another, more comfortable chair, long legs crossing over one another as he reclined back. "I never wanted the effort, and most slaves are boring. Far better to have my tasks completed by already trained palace property. You had intelligence and a spark of personality, these were the traits that caused me to choose you, but you must know when to temper them."

He knew that he could provide a good life for his slave, even an enjoyable one, but it would take wisdom to learn when certain things were appropriate. He did not yet know if Anthony possessed that wisdom.

"I told you that I would hold leniency for the week until Thor's birth celebration, and I hold true to that. No more will be spoken of this. Rise. Run to the kitchens and the stables, I wish to ride through the night and both food and mounts must be prepared for us both."

Okay. Yes. Anthony took the warning, took the instruction, and took the order as they were intended…to guide and to lay out what might be expected of him. Loki’s admission that he had never taken a personal servant wasn’t new information for Anthony. He’d figured that out already. And that meant that they would be dealing with this together, finding a way to coexist. It put a little more strain on Anthony, but also took some of the burden off because he didn’t have to follow in anyone’s footsteps and he could never be compared to another either.

Save for Bruce, maybe. Anthony decided to spend all of his free time with the other man to learn what he could. It would be perfect. He could just feel it.

“Of course, my prince,” Anthony said, putting a hand to his chest as he had seen others do, bowing, and stepping twice backwards before he turned to leave. He was a little frantic to the kitchen staff, mostly because he couldn’t tell them exactly what he wanted, but instead said he needed food for a full night’s ride, packed away and easy to transport. “For Prince Loki!” he spat at when he was more or less ignored. That got them going. He found himself laden with two baskets of carefully wrapped food and wine that he would pack away into saddle bags at the stable. He even assisted the groom in preparing Loki’s horse…mostly so he could ask for a shorter mount.

He didn’t want to look foolish climbing on it later.

There weren't many shorter mounts, these were the palace stables and so all the stock was of excellent quality. Asgardian mounts were large anyway, not that Anthony would ever have seen the smaller and meeker Midgardian equivalent, and so the horse he ended up with was a large roan mare who pawed the ground impatiently as she was saddled and bridled, the saddlebags being laid across her rump so that Loki's horse remained unencumbered for riding.

By the time these preparations were made, Loki had appeared in the stables dressed in a cloak with his usual leather clothing beneath, and swung himself up into the saddle as though he had been doing as much since he had been born. Which he very nearly had.

"Come along, Anthony, we must be away quickly, we have a long journey and little time to do it in."

He ignored the stablehand who knelt to him, and simply spurred his horse away, relying on Anthony to follow.

At seventeen hands high, the roan mare was probably the shortest of all of the mounts on offer and so Anthony was pretty happy to select that one instead of the twenty-one handers like Loki’s robust, beautiful and sleek steed. He ended up using a paige for a hand up, or rather a shoulder as Anthony climbed up onto his knee and then his shoulder to jump into the saddle. The horse, who likely thought the antics of the slave were amusing, whinnied before she took off after the other horse at a trot.

Anthony didn’t need to do much to ride. The horse knew her place and Anthony was loose as he watched the fine form of his master from just ahead of him. The outline in the late afternoon sun made Anthony smile.

He couldn’t help but be proud of his new lot in life. There was just a little bit of a hiccup but now? Now he had wind in his hair. They would cross out of the gates, not towards the Bifrost but back towards the village. He hoped everyone would see him as they passed.

Anthony may be seen by one or two of the slaves, but they passed the village by quickly. Loki kept up a rapid pace, pushing to a hard gallop for the next five hours as dusk darkened into night and the stars came out. Hard roads devolved into thick dirt tracks as they passed further into the countryside. Eventually Loki turned off the roads altogether, leaping a hedge and disappearing into the treeline to weave amongst the undergrowth of the forest.

Eventually he pulled up beside a pool of clear water so perfect that it stood like a mirror, reflecting the moon and stars with no ripple to mar the surface. He dismounted and left his horse sweating and shaking by the water's edge.

"There are books upon Vanaheim that I wish," he said, finally speaking for the first time since they left the palace stables. "I have been refused by the librarian to take them, and so we must acquire them a different way. Come, kneel beside the water."

One day in and they were already about to do something dangerous. Anthony slid off of his panting horse and left it to pasture by the lake. His bones hurt, he was not used to a ride like that. He ought to have picked a more padded saddle, though it was much too late to worry about that now. He glanced around the moonlit grounds before doing as he was asked. Maybe he shouldn’t be as excited as he was…but he couldn’t help himself. His heart was racing and Anthony wasn’t sure if he could contain the way he felt about all of this.

Loki was utterly perfect. Vanaheim had no right to bar him from anything he wanted and so Loki was going to take what was his. Anything Bruce said about loyalty to the royal family verses Loki was already out of his head.

His loyalty was to Loki. The royal family as a whole sent him back to the unclaimed village after his parents died. There was no question for Anthony on whom it was he served and why.

Anthony wasn’t expecting there to be the amount of discofort there was when Loki opened the space from this Realm to the next. The Void lived up to everything assumed about it, though.

Though Loki could technically pull them onto the branches of Yggdrasil and through the Void from anywhere on any realm, there were some places that were connected. More densely concentrated with seidr than others, making the process easier, and this pool was one such place. He had come here partly because he had another to take along with him, and partly because he had long ago shielded this particular area from Heimdall's gaze.

The journey took them just outside the capital of Vanaheim where the great palace was located. He could not simply take them inside and snatch it, they would detect the magic. This had to be done with more subtlety.

"There will be a Librarian guarding entry and taking note of all who enter the stacks, you must distract her as I pass undetected. You must not go further into the library lest they suspect you of the theft, you must leave when you hear a whistle from without."

Now he would see if the ingenuity he had chosen Anthony for was worth it.

Sneaking around to get preferential treatment (or just out of a chore he didn’t want to do) happened to be Anthony’s greatest asset, outside of his mind. He regarded Loki for a moment before he glanced down at the embossed leather jerkin he was wearing. “I can do all of that for you, my prince, but my clothing might give me away. Do I have permission to wear only the undertunic?” He was Midgardian. Midgardians only had one place. It wasn’t as if Anthony could act as a free citizen of Asgard. There was no such position for him to even attempt it. But he could act as a slave to another.

And he had no trouble making up names and information on the spot.

Indeed, once he had managed to disguise himself a little (mussing his hair up, turning the belt so the unfinished side was visible, pulling his trousers from his fine boots to downplay the braided leather touches, he could almost be unrecognizable. At least as far as the freefolks went. A slave looked like any other and none really looking to closely at them in the first place.

Anthony took the marble edged stairs two at a time and paused just at the edge of the vision of the guard and the clerk at the fine desk. He did his best not to look awestruck at how austere and grand this building was, barely letting himself gaze upon the statuary or the tapestries. He instead made himself look lost. He hemmed and hawed for a moment, wandered up and down the hall to pause at the various doorways, before he finally, and sheepishly went to ask a few very dumb questions of the library keepers.

“My mistress will have me beaten,” he said, softly. “I don’t remember exactly what she sent me to retrieve. Can you… Can you please help? I know the title begins with a history of Jotunheim. Or maybe about the war? Oh, she’s going to do worse than whip me!”

Loki remained outside for a time to listen, altering his form in the manner that only he seemed capable of. Other shapeshifters he knew from Asgard and Vanaheim could only do so with a specific spell, with much effort, but he shifted his form as though it were an ability like breathing, hardly even connected to his magic at all. Like he had been born already able to shift.

Good, Anthony did seem to be able to think well on his feet.

The librarian looked irritated, but more at being pulled from her work than the slave himself. She was used to stupid Midgardians, and she was not so heartless as to want to see him beaten. Though if he could not remember the tomes she wanted, then there was little to be done about it.

"There are many books within about Jotunheim and the last war between Asgard and Jotunheim, many hundreds. You must think harder, boy, or I cannot save you the whipping you'll receive."

She tapped a pen on the carved wooden desk as she waited for him to actually put forth effort.

"Which household have you come from? It may be that their past reading record will enlighten us as to their current field of study or interest."

Anthony knew only the names of those that came through the village from time to time to take a look at the stock. Most never repeated a visit, they didn’t need to since five years was about the same as a blink of an eye for them. The village didn’t receive new chattel all that regularly anymore, likely because it was coming time for a new culling of Midgard to occur so that the population on Asgard didn’t suffer from a lack of genetic diversity.

He rattled off the name of someone who had nearly taken his papers and book when he was eleven, but ultimately chose another the following day and sent a newly washed and primped Anthony back to the bunk he already spent seven years in, and where he would spend another nine. He didn’t hold such ill will as to use a name in vain, but…yeah, actually, he did. He was supposed to be a playmate and servant for that household’s youngest.

He still didn’t know why he was returned.

“If you could just show me a few titles…I might be able to point out… Oh! That one-- Yes, and that one mentions the title of another tome… Could I see the ledger a little more closely…?”

The name mentioned belonged to a wealthy family, not one of the nobility, but a skilled craftsman who had risen to the top of his industry and now employed many people beneath him. His wife, four daughters, and six sons were all members of the same business, and so it was easy to find the wife's name, for she had been the name given, in the ledger to find what she had written.

"Of course you may not. These are private papers, not for the eyes of slaves. I will read you any titles which pertain to Jotunheim and you may tell me if these help your piecemeal memory."

She began to read off a long list of boring titles, some of which were histories of Jotunheim, some were fanciful tales of their legends, some were about the Frost Giants themselves as a species, more than a few about the war. Lucky for Anthony, the ruined Jotunheim was a popular topic of study, as the war was still relatively recent for most on Vanaheim and Asgard, only just a thousand years ago.

Anthony would only have to listen to about fifteen titles before a low whistle came from outside, tuneful and brief.

Anthony allowed three more names to be read to him before he slowly bowed his head. “They all seem familiar,” he said with a sigh and glanced up at the doorways’ grand arches because he did truly wish to go inside, and sighed wistfully. That was not an act. “I think I’m going to have to take my punishment. Thank you for your kindnesses,” he said, placed a hand over his heart, and left. He did not move quickly. To run now might make it seem as if he was trying to flee.

He arrived by Loki’s side, around the corner from the building, with a faint smile. He assumed without asking that he had been successful, though he looked proud for his part in it and immediately flipped around his belt and gratefully accepted his jerkin back. Even if he struggled to put it on. The tightness of leather was not something he was familiar with and it showed as he took a deep breath to finally pull it down over his chest.

Today had been rife with strangeness. It had been dark and moonlit on Asgard but it was only at the last stages of dusk on Vanaheim. Anthony had never been to another realm before and he took a moment to take it all in.

Just woke up having to pee is all. XD

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