Loki (
throneenvy) wrote in
fossilised2017-05-15 01:29 pm
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I come from a land of ice and snow
Asgard sat atop the branches of Yggdrasil since time began, and little had changed in their society in the years since. Each Asgardian was long-lived into the millennia, their lands were fertile, their people brave and strong. They had their vassals, their allies, and their enemies. Yet even those who opposed them respected the might of the Golden Dias, and the royalty who sat upon it. Currently that was Odin Borson, though he grew weary more easily now and had begun to consider passing the throne to his eldest son.
He had been blessed with many children, but only two that he considered worthy of his lineage and status. His firstborn, Thor, strong and honourable and everything an Asgardian warrior should be. His second son, Loki, was not natural born, though none knew that but his wife. He was different, a creature of magic and mayhem, of sharp intelligence. Both were worthy, but together they would take Asgard to a new prosperity, he was certain of it.
Midgard, where the mortals dwelt, was a land raided every few centuries for stock. It was seen as a breeding ground, much like a corral for cattle. Mortals were lesser, short-lived and weak, they were fit only as slaves. The last raid had taken place when Loki had been but a baby, nearly a thousand years ago, but the mortals that had been taken had been bred and cared for so that a healthy slave population still thrived. Slaves were given a weakened mixture of Idunn's crop with their food, to extend their natural lives to at least a few centuries in order to make them worth the effort to train. They had no rights, but they were taught well that this was their natural position.
All slave children were raised in a central pen and taught the same when small, those that then displayed talent at cooking, riding, hunting, housework, artisan skills, or singing were then measured off to be specially trained for higher masters. Every five years those who could afford to buy a slave, or those of high enough status to simply demand them, came to the corral and chose. Those who were chosen were special, were envied, and those who were not ended up working the fields out in the far reaches of Asgard, the most menial of work.
Anthony and Steven had been friends since they were little and being raised in the large pens together. Both had excelled, Anthony at crafting and Steven at warrior's skills, but neither were chosen when they were five, nor ten, nor even fifteen. Now, at twenty, it was their final chance to be chosen before they would be assigned to one of the meanest farmers beyond the borders of the great capital. Steven woke Anthony as the dawn rose, mingled excitement and nerves on his face.
"Anthony! Wake up, I've got news! I heard the overseer talking to one of the passing guards, and Princes Thor and Loki are coming to the corral today."
He had been blessed with many children, but only two that he considered worthy of his lineage and status. His firstborn, Thor, strong and honourable and everything an Asgardian warrior should be. His second son, Loki, was not natural born, though none knew that but his wife. He was different, a creature of magic and mayhem, of sharp intelligence. Both were worthy, but together they would take Asgard to a new prosperity, he was certain of it.
Midgard, where the mortals dwelt, was a land raided every few centuries for stock. It was seen as a breeding ground, much like a corral for cattle. Mortals were lesser, short-lived and weak, they were fit only as slaves. The last raid had taken place when Loki had been but a baby, nearly a thousand years ago, but the mortals that had been taken had been bred and cared for so that a healthy slave population still thrived. Slaves were given a weakened mixture of Idunn's crop with their food, to extend their natural lives to at least a few centuries in order to make them worth the effort to train. They had no rights, but they were taught well that this was their natural position.
All slave children were raised in a central pen and taught the same when small, those that then displayed talent at cooking, riding, hunting, housework, artisan skills, or singing were then measured off to be specially trained for higher masters. Every five years those who could afford to buy a slave, or those of high enough status to simply demand them, came to the corral and chose. Those who were chosen were special, were envied, and those who were not ended up working the fields out in the far reaches of Asgard, the most menial of work.
Anthony and Steven had been friends since they were little and being raised in the large pens together. Both had excelled, Anthony at crafting and Steven at warrior's skills, but neither were chosen when they were five, nor ten, nor even fifteen. Now, at twenty, it was their final chance to be chosen before they would be assigned to one of the meanest farmers beyond the borders of the great capital. Steven woke Anthony as the dawn rose, mingled excitement and nerves on his face.
"Anthony! Wake up, I've got news! I heard the overseer talking to one of the passing guards, and Princes Thor and Loki are coming to the corral today."
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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!”
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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."
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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…?”
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"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.
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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.
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"You have done well, Anthony, this will not be forgotten."
Anthony would need to learn that Loki was mercurial and so were the shifts in his temper and temperament. He was swift to punish, but also swift to reward, and he valued those who did not condemn him for what he saw as petty indiscretions.
"Come, we must away from Vanaheim swiftly before we are discovered, but I shall bring you to see the Free Markets as a reward before long."
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Though he had only heard of the Free Markets before, and he had no way of knowing just how truly splendid they were, Loki’s promise of reward was more than enough for Anthony’s eyes to grow like saucers. “I’m happy to serve you, my prince,” he said, though he was also happy to be recognized. Loki didn’t give him specific praise, but in Tony’s head, he absolutely had. It had been astounding to be simply told he’d done well.
Normally, it was everyone else that was singled out. Anthony usually just opened to be overlooked because if his name was mentioned, it was generally in conjunction with some misdeed, mischief, or lack of attention.
Though he was not at all looking forward to the return trip, travel by Loki's brand of magic was very rough, and he was honestly exhausted after today, he hoped that the ride back to Asgard would be relaxing. The horses seemed to know where they were going and maybe Anthony could get a bit of shut eye on the way so that he would be more than capable of serving his master come morning.
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The few days following passed by quickly and without other major incident.
Loki spent much of his time engrossed in his new book, occasionally sending Anthony for food or to gather certain items or ingredients for things that he wanted. He was not cruel, however, and he allowed his mortal time to rest and even some leisure time to tinker with his metal parts. Though he trusted that during this time that Anthony also took time to learn his duties more thoroughly.
The sun had scarcely risen on the sixth day when Loki rose from his bed and simply spoke an order, for it was Anthony's duty to be there to hear it no matter the time of day or night.
"Fetch Steven, it is the day of my brother's birth celebration and I would present him to Thor before he becomes too drunk to know if he is being given a slave or a pig."
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Though Anthony's days had been spent happily, even if Loki more or less ignored him, he found himself himself fast friends with Bruce and he saw Steven daily for lessons. He was working as hard as he could to be perfect, which was probably a first for Anthony, and Steven noticed.
He was also bound to notice when someone joined him in his sizable bed in an alcove off of the slave quarters. Everyone here had their own little nugget of space, bigger than the village's but not as large as Anthony's space.
Anthony laid his head on Steve's shoulder and waited for the man to stir beneath him.
"Prince Loki wants you," Anthony said, yawning.
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Steven sat bolt upright immediately, hit his head on the ceiling, and practically fell out of his tiny bed searching for his clothing. He couldn't believe that Anthony was just lying there like he had all the time in the world, the man really had settled into his position well.
"How long ago did he send you? Did he say why?"
Oh Odin's Beard, what if he'd done something to displease the Prince? What if he'd ruined his chances of being given to Prince Thor?!
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They had some time. Anthony ran the whole way there without even stopping to say hello to Bruce in his nice little room across the hallway.
"Don't rush to dress. You're going to look too eager. Or... I don't know. Frumpled. Is that a word? Is now. You have to look your best. But the tailor passed me on the hall with a big package so you might be getting some new clothing. I hope you like leather better than I do."
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Please let him prove himself.
He leaned down and gave Anthony a one-armed hug, excitement too much to hold in, before he began to pull his clothing on again. Taking care that each part was where it should be, that he was clean, and everything turned out properly.
"Look at us now, Anthony, would we ever have believed we'd belong to the princes?"
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He climbed out of bed as Steven laced up his black boots and followed him out of the room. Bruce explained that to Anthony on his third day. Slaves had to follow hierarchy here. Prince Thor's slaves went first. And then Prince Loki's. The only difference was the ranking of the slaves. Anything under Thor's personal enclave would come after Loki's personal enclave--
It was strange and hard to remember. Anthony wasn't used to being given deference. And yet he let Steven walk just a shoulder ahead. He was pretty sure he would have to get used to that. Steve wouldn't stay an underling for long.
Back to Loki's room, Anthont lightly knocked the way Loki showed him to quietly announce his presence before he went in, not waiting to be told he was allowed. It was understood he would be. "My prince, your gift is here."
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Loki was dressed in his feastday finest, for it was a celebration of his brother's birth and he would be expected to be. Not that he resented that, he loved his brother dearly, and only his mother held a greater affection in his heart. Steven was just one part of the present, he also had a stallion of exceptional stock from Vanaheim's well respected stables to give to him.
"Good. You will not attend your regular duties today, you will accompany me at all times through the feasting and entertainment should I require anything. Come evening, I shall allow you a few hours to join the revelry held in the servant and slave quarters. Steven, Anthony, come."
Loki swept out of the room and along the corridors to Thor's chambers, not bothering to knock before he slipped inside to see if the man of the hour was yet out of his furs or not.
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Thor turned at the sound and then broke into a grin, seeing only his brother for the moment. He did not generally notice slaves but nor did he ignore them. His focus was generally just narrowed and that often did not include the background characters that accompanied the main ones in his mind.
"Brother! Know you what today is?" He'd been out hunting with the Warriors and Sif and their personal slaves for the last week and had missed his little brother when he returned. But it was late and he assumed Loki would be reading so he had not disturbed him. He flung out his arms, as ignorant of his nakedness as he was his brother's entourage, and waited for Loki to accept his embrace.
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"Let me think," he teased, a grin on his face. "I have for you gifts, and I already scented your favourite foods being prepared in the kitchens as we passed, so... no, I cannot imagine what today is."
He finally stepped back, a brief glimmer of magic allowing the moisture from Thor's naked body to be expunged from his clothes.
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"How is it you have purchased gifts for me and yet do not recall why?" It was hard to tell if Thor was joking or not. His face was hard, almost fierce. "Has all of that sorcery gone to your brain or did mother prompt you to find a gift for me?" He made a show of scratching his beard. "And I have been planing your own gifts for nearly two years now, for much the same occasion. My poor brother. Mind for books and not much else. We will mourn you so."
Thor laughed and grabbed for Loki, actually make out Anthony take a step forward as if to protect his master from the juggernaut that was Thor. He would be nothing in the way of that might and yet a mere week had given Anthony an instinct that could not be taught but must be felt.
Thor's slave cleared his throat, not much taller than Anthony but muscular. He had dark hair and blue eyes that seemed amused. Though he had already guessed one slave was for Thor by his size and shape and haircut, he had never in his life known Loki to keep a slave. A lot had happened when he was out on his hunt with Thor. Interesting. He'd have to poke around the quarters for gossip later.
Loki would be thrown over Thor's shoulder if he allowed himself to be caught and flung down on the bed as if he was half his size and age. It was a game Loki used to cackle with delight over.
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James stepped to one side, used to the sight of his master and brother wrestling, and smiled at both new slaves. He shook his head just slightly at Loki's slave to indicate that he should not intervene, and raised eyebrows at Thor's new gift to see what he thought of his probable first close up look at his master.
Loki laughed as he flew back onto the bed, but he did not go easily. He wound his legs around his brother's throat and twisted to try and toss him down as well, relying on dexterity rather than strength to get the move done.
"Do not mourn my mind, my brother, it is sharper than any of your blades will ever be. Steven, step forward. Thor, I have bought this slave for you, his papers and assessments in physical attributes were second to none."
Steven stepped forwards eagerly and stood as straight as he could, pride practically radiating off him.
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Hanging back, Anthony did as Bruce told him to. Be present, he said. Be present but invisible. Allow your betters to have their moments and you just be the extension of their hand. Bruce told him that he would grow used to it but until then, he needed to be mindful of his presence. It just took a lot out of him to stand straight in a corner when he wanted to be at Loki’s side.
And Bruce told him that it was normal too. Enthusiasm was important to cultivate and quash as needed
From under Loki’s arm and leg, Thor stuck his head to look up at the tall, muscled slave. “Ho! A fine specimen!” he said, pulling himself out of Loki’s hold to step out towards the slave. He put on a sarong, tied once around his waist rather than summon his usual clothing and placed his hands on narrow hips as he stared down at the gift. His grin was infectious as he nodded in appreciation at Loki. “You have his books?”
Thor tilted his head to the left and shifted his arms to cross over his massive chest.
“James, I want you to look over his logs….but until then, Steven? Where did my brother find you? Not the unclaimed village, surely. You would have been snatched up years ago.”
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appointments look like they might run right up towards game time stupid delays ):
Alas!!! Have a fun night at least!
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you want me to write a skip next tag to be more established and make stuff happen?
Sure
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appointments this morning
Okay! I shall be around until about 2 my time.
Here I am!
Re: Here I am!
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i have hearing aids now! help me, Jeni, the world is way too loud haha
Turn them down! BUT YAY!
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