fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

James was what all people wanted from their personal slaves. Loyal, fierce, strong, intelligent, but always knowing his place and never overstepping the mark. He knew his own worth but he didn't inflate it, and his devotion to Thor was absolute. He chuckled when Thor jested about giving him his own personal slave, returning the knife he had been sharpening to a loop at his belt.

"Thank you, it will take time to see if he has what it takes, but I believe he could be something special. Maybe even a worthy successor to me when my time comes."

He knew that Thor didn't like to think of the mortality of people that he loved, and he had never lost a slave before, so it would perhaps come as a shock the first time. Like a child losing their first pet.

"Now come, you cannot keep everyone waiting today, they won't be able to start the celebrations without you and you're wasting the day with a slave instead of your family. Let me get your formal dress and get you ready."

James said it too often of late. He made remarks about his mortality every few months as if trying to prepare him. Thor disliked it enough that he reached out and gripped the metal arm. James was strong but Thor's very nature was strength and the slave had no hope of fighting him. Not that James ever would. From his spot across the courtyard, seated in the slave quarters he would share with all of Thor's slaves save James, Steven watched Thor pull the Midgardian back into his arms and nuzzle the back of his neck.

"Enough of that. I will travel to Valhalla myself to bring you back to my service if you are foolish enough to leave it. And I will be greatly unhappy with you then."

He did not let James go, pressing himself forward instead.

"Have Steven prepare my garb and allow me a little more time to waste with my slave."

It felt good to be loved so much, to be so appreciated by his master, and James let himself be manhandled into Thor's arms pliantly. But he did not drop the subject, even though he had been told to. It hadn't been a particularly vehement order, and James knew that Odin would want him to nip this sort of denial in the bud if he could.

"When my time comes, and if I am fortunate enough to die a warrior's death and enter Valhalla, then I will wait there until I can serve you again in the future. But you will find another slave and live on, my prince."

He raised his flesh arm, since his metal one was preoccupied now, and gestured towards where he knew Steven was watching.

"Steven, fetch Thor's feastday clothing and lay it out in his chambers ready for him. Now."

"Enough talking." Thor did not shy from the truth, and death need not be forever nor something incapable of being enjoyed nor inglorious. Thor would just miss his slave. But that was nothing to think of now either. And James was considerate about his inappropriate comment too. Thor knew he was a bit too chivalrous towards his slave and that he needed to be much more careful with his words--

And he would. Next time.

As the tall blond, his brother's gift, came across the courtyard to head through the spiral hall to the bedroom, Thor released James and they both followed the young slave upstairs only for James to find himself on his stomach a moment later, weapons belt still in place, trousers still on, while Thor rutted up against him. His weight was superiority great on the smaller Midgardian but he kept much of it on his knees and his elbow as he reached around James' waist to shove a hand down those trousers. It was how children rutted, clothing on in case they were caught doing something they shouldn't, though Thor had ever right to use James as he saw fit. It was also how warriors might enjoy an afternoon while waiting for battle, ready to fight at the sound of a horn.

Thor just liked the initial tussle. He liked the roughness. And he liked it when James was pleasured. His slave was loud. It struck more than one chord in Thor.

And loud he was.

James, like all of those before him, had been trained to make sure that he could fulfil any of his master's wishes. But he had never found a tumble in the furs to be an arduous duty, his pleasure sounding out loudly enough for all to hear from even the rooms across the halls. He was not so submissive a lover, there was no need for him to be when his master could manhandle him with the ease of a babe, rutting back against him and struggling to try and turn around to rip clothes away and pleasure Thor in return.

Ultimately, though, he existed for Thor's pleasure, whether that was rutting until he reached his completion, or something else. He would never deny his prince anything, heart full of pride and love even as he collapsed back, satiated and spent.

"That-- my prince, is truly not getting ready for your feast," he teased, grin on his face.

"And ready I should be getting. What a lazy slave you are to rest in repose instead of preparing me!" Thor sported a hefty erection as he left James to recline upon his furs. He would need his energy for the feast and would not spend himself until he was in his cups. Perhaps that would be with Sif or his Warriors. Perhaps with James. Thor might be a great strategist but he did not plan his own pleasure.

He gestured for Steven, who had laid out his clothing and was currently waiting patiently for further instruction, to bring the bathing bowl. Thor would leave the bathing proper for later. He had barely worked up a sweat anyway.

"You will train exclusively with James," Thor told his newest slave as he sponged him off and dried him after. "He is already training Samuel and you will join him. Other than what I require of you, you are James'."

Steven might not understand that particular honour yet, but Bruce had eluded to it. James was the third most important slave in Asgard after Odin's and Frigga's personal slaves. And perhaps he held as much sway as they did.

Steven had some small notion of what this might mean for him, but not much. What he did know, however, was that he had wanted to be a warrior all his life to protect others and right injustices, and now he was being given that opportunity. He could barely stammer his thanks, dropping to a knee fervently to express how grateful he was for such a gift.

He liked James too, it was an instant feeling that this was a man that he could get along with, a man after his own heart. He just hoped that Anthony was enjoying his good fortune as much as Steven was. He quickly tried to help his prince finish getting ready, and then watched James for what to do when their master was finally on the way to his birthday feast.

James gave him an hour to himself, and so he ran off in search of Anthony, almost colliding with the other slave down the corridor towards Bruce's rooms.

"Anthony! Anthony! I'm to be trained as a warrior, isn't that fantastic?"

Anthony was still reeling himself, walking on clouds and with a hazy sort of glint to his eyes. He wanted to lounge around and spread out like a cat on furs but as his free time was precious and he had only an hour or so before he was to accompany Loki to the feast to fill his cups and deliver foods too far to reach, he wanted to grill Bruce about the price of metals and supplies at the Free Markets and what he could expect to pay for old, broken communication equipment to tinker with.

He hadn’t expected to see Steven until the feast itself, but here he was running around like a barely paper trained puppy yapping at him.

“Are you surprised?” he asked genuinely, reaching out to give Steven a little punch to his bare arm. “Because I’m not. This is where you’re meant to be. And me too. He’s going to keep me. So I owe you thanks, then, for making sure I was awake and in the yard when Prince Loki arrived.”

Perhaps he would purchase something small for Steven. Perhaps that would be a bad use of his money, but Steven had been his only friend until Bruce. And technically, Bruce was not his friend but Anthony didn’t care. He was to him.

Of course he was surprised, because Steven was an idiot who often didn't know his own incredible worth. He just beamed and grabbed Anthony in a tight hug, before releasing him and smoothing down his official tunic self consciously, not wanting to be rumpled at all before the feast began.

"He really said that? He's keeping you? I knew that he would! I told you that you were a genius and you just needed to wait for the right master. Tell me everything that happened, I want to know it all."

No matter if they found other friends, other masters, other lives; Anthony would still be one of Steven's best friends. They had grown up together, trained together, and supported one another through the horrible certainty that neither one of them would be chosen. Now that they were happy, Steven wanted no less to be a part of Anthony's life.

As much as Anthony relied on Bruce for his insight, he couldn’t help but be boosted by Steven’s sheer enthusiasm. They could not be more different, the two of them, and yet they had landed on such similar ground for their entire lives together. Anthony appreciated Steven in ways that the likeable man had never been appreciated. Even when he was being maddening.

Anthony told Steven, in as much detail as he could with discussing the library, how Loki had favored him in all ways possible. He discussed his exciting use of magic and how it was a pleasure to serve him in any way he was tasked. They were speaking like children with their heads together when Bruce poked his head out of the door. He’d thought he’d heard the pair and there they were, chattering on excitedly like little squirrels.

“You shouldn’t gossip in public,” Bruce said as he pushed his glasses up his nose and waited for the unlikely pair to flow into his room.

“Bruce!” Anthony’s voice was sharp and high in his excitement. “I need to know how much five gold coins will stretch on Vanaheim!” Steve blinked, mouth agape, and Anthony nodded. “I guess he likes me, huh?”

Bruce had grown to quite like the pair of new royal slaves in the week that he had been helping to prepare them for their roles, they both had personality in ways that would surely help them with their respective masters. So he was indulgent as he let them into his chambers and make themselves at home on his chairs and the edge of his bed.

"Five gold coins would be enough to buy a small homestead with land on the outskirts of Asgard, Anthony, you can buy a lot of materials for that. Anything dwarven worked will cost more, anything of Jotun heritage will cost more due to scarcity these days, but sometimes that quality is worth paying for."

He wasn't as surprised. Though Odin wasn't given to gifting his slaves large sums of money, he had on occasion been given enough coin to buy himself comforts, books, and other things that a slave often had no right to.

"You need to be careful at the Free Markets, though a truce holds, it doesn't always apply to slaves."

“I don’t need land. I’m staying with the Prince,” Anthony said, as if that was even a question. There was no way that he could do his duties if he was farming a plot of land! Though he knew it was ridiculous to say, he was already fiercely loyal to Loki…likely in the same way that Bruce was to Odin. He might not be the All-Father’s personal servant any longer, but he was a brilliant scholar in his own right and Odin still called on him quite often. He still assumed, however, that Bruce was mostly looking after his son. In this last week, with Anthony in place, Bruce had most of his time taken up by his own persuits.

Odin would not be pleased. No one had any idea why just yet.

“Well… I don’t think I’ll have to spend all of the money at once. I don’t know if my prince will be angry if I don’t. I want to prove myself worthy to be trusted this way with my gifts. He mentioned that one of the ladies in waiting for his mother had a servant that used all of her gifted coin on jewelry and that it was a waste of good money. I won’t want him to think I’m like that. And in not worried about... It will be fine. Prince Loki will watch for me."

Anthony had never in his life worried about how others saw him. Steven was silent in comment, but incredibly proud of how quickly he had grown up.

He laid back on the bottom of Bruce's bed, face impish.

"Have you ever warmed the prince's skin it furs, Bruce?" he said, delight on his face.

Ah, so that was what had such a devilish smile on Anthony's face. That was good, different slaves reacted differently when they were bedded by their masters, some with pride and satisfaction, and some with reluctance and upset. It was good for Anthony that he fell into the former camp, it would make his time serving much more pleasant, for he would not have to be constantly worried about something he must endure happening.

"No, I've never warmed Prince Loki's furs, he can be quite discerning when it comes to choosing those to enjoy bed sport with, and I don't think I appealed to him."

Though he had been present in the room while Loki had bedded others, for sex was not a taboo thing to witness on Asgard. Perhaps the very young might be kept innocent of it, but not for long. It was a joyful act, there was no need for shame to be associated with it.

"But I think if you've been gifted coin, then it's probably yours to do with as you will. Spend it or keep it."

Bruce would know Loki better than anyone but he wasn't sure what to say about Loki not thinking Bruce was attractive. Anthony found him incredibly attractive, and he turned over to give the older man a look of confusion before he wrinkled his nose and shrugged. "A shame. His sorcery is... I think no one else on Asgard could ever match him in the furs."

Not that he would know. Anthony wasn't well versed in bed sport.

Not like Steve who was, perhaps, more well versed than he realized. Everyone loved him after all.

And that was no exaggeration.

"But I feel better at least about the spending. I want to be wise with what I'm given. I have a feeling it's why I was chosen to begin with."

"Be careful about encouraging Prince Loki's use of sorcery."

Bruce frowned. He had never outright condemned sorcery in front of Loki, that wasn't his business, but it was fairly clear that the All-Father didn't approve of how much Loki relied on his magic. It had been alright when he was a boy, but now he was nearly a man and should have set aside such cowardly tricks and women's work.

"He's almost at his millennial and should be setting those skills aside soon, it's your job as a personal slave to try and guide your master when he's wrong, but subtly enough that they think it's their ideas."

Even Thor, the one who loved Loki best, didn't see his magic as more than parlour tricks to be used in jest against him.

Anthony gaped, sitting up, his entire expression one of sorrow, confusion and apprehension. "I don't... What?" He had no idea that magic was the Realm of women. He had very little knowledge of magic at all. He was only nineteen years old, though interestingly he and Loki shared a birthday and his prince's millennial and his twentieth coincided. Not that Anthony would mention this when he realized it. It was nothing compared to his Prince's day.

The unclaimed village really did not prepare slaves for royalty. They were supposed to be bought by merchants or guilds, by farmers even. Those of genuine power tended to cultivate their own slaves and supplement their stock from time to time with those from the village...but generally only at a young age and usually right after their third knot was given so that it was known that they could produce offspring for well established bloodlines.

They were not well equipped with the sort of knowledge Bruce had, and as such, Anthony felt betrayed.

"It is my job as his personal slave to do all he bids. Magic is part of who he is. How can you be so cold?" Anthony was already scooting off of the bed. "I have to go and get ready," he mumbled. "Thanks for the advice about the money. See you later, Steven."

"Anthony, wait."

Bruce didn't raise his voice, he was always calm and collected. He hoped that nobody would ever have to see him otherwise again, he had killed too many good people when he went into berserker rages, it was better for them all that he remained here and did menial house work rather than ride into battle. He had made his peace with never reaching Valhalla.

Still, as soft as his voice was, that didn't mean it wasn't firm.

"You need to understand this. Magic is not the realm of men on Asgard, it's for women and healers, and definitely not for sons of the royal house. It's cowardly, sneaky, and dishonourable. Prince Loki's favour drops day by day, and only the affections of Prince Thor and Queen Frigga stop more drastic measures being taken. If you are loyal to your master, then sometimes that means protecting them even from themselves."

It was a hard thing to learn, but it would be necessary for both. Steven would have to learn how to help temper Thor's impetuousness and naivety, and Anthony would have to curtail the use of magic somehow.

The door shut behind him. It didn't mean that he hadn't heard Bruce or that he wasn't going to listen to him, but he needed to do his own research here. Bruce was a wealth of knowledge. He was smart and he was clever but Anthony thought he knew best...just like all young people who had yet to see their first century let alone the near millennial that Bruce himself was pushing. Ah, to be young and naive again, right?

Anthony walked slowly back to his master. He would likely be sent away as the feasting wound down to enjoy a feast with the palace slaves in their quarters later and during that time, Anthony would do his research before he returned to Loki. He was sure he'd see other feasts...this one didn't have to be attended by himself when his free time was much more important.

He would discover if what Bruce said was true about magic... If Loki went down, Anthony would too. And he couldn't go back to the village. A discard of a fallen Prince? They would just kill him out of mercy if he was lucky.

Anthony was subdued as he slipped back into Loki's chambers. "I smelled the feast being prepared and watched it delivered. Your presence will be requested shortly, my prince. Are you ready to go?"

It was a hard position for Anthony to find himself in, already trapped between the prevailing opinion of Asgard and his loyalty to his master. He would have to decide for himself whether to tie his fortunes to his master properly or not, for if he had been shown not to discourage Loki's efforts in magic then, if the young prince should be disgraced for it, he would likely lose his station and his life along with Loki.

But should he discourage it, then he might be retained in the royal household for showing intelligence and loyalty to the All-Father, but he would be betraying Loki.

Unaware of this turmoil in his slave's head, Loki looked up from the small book he had been studying and rose to his feet, perceptive green eyes fixing on Anthony closely. He did not quite care for his slave yet, but he always valued information, and something must have happened to change Anthony's behaviour from delight to upset.

"Tell me what has occurred, and do not think to lie to me, I shall know if you do."

An order, not a suggestion.

Anthony had no intention of tell the Loki just why he was out of sorts. It would put Bruce in danger and he couldn't do that. But he would not lie to his master either and he had a moment of looking incensed when Loki reminded him that he would know of his lied. Their relationship as master and slave was too new for Anthony to make a retort about it, however.

"Bruce and I got into it," he said, by way of explanation. He did look down for it. He would need to keep his mask of indifference on a little more tightly after this. Loki was too perceptive about a mere slave. It meant Anthony wasn't blending well. And that also meant he wasn't doing his job properly. "I went to ask his advice on the Free Markets-- I don't want to squander your gift."

Anthony huffed a little and lifted his eyes towards Loki. It was brazen to look directly at him.

"Why didn't you choose a personal slave from the palace slaves? I want to please you and I'm afraid I'll fall short. Well. Shorter than I am."

It was brazen, and Anthony only proved his point by asking a question direct of his master in such a bold and impertinent way, but Loki did not discipline him for it. He had expected this sort of question sooner or later, and he intended to be honest. For once. If Anthony did not wish to serve him with full loyalty after that, it was better that Loki know now than later.

"Magic."

It was a simple response, as he sat back down and crossed his legs, one over the other, to observe Anthony more closely.

"Magic is an element of chaos in the ordered tradition of Asgard, I am sure you have already heard rumours of the names they think I do not know. Prince of Lies, Silvertongue, Coward, Trickster. Just as magic is not accepted here, so too is chaos and the spark of something more frowned on in slaves. Yet it is part of me, as much as your unruly tongue is part of you. I needed a slave who would be able to weather the distrust, one who could look past the mundane and see seidr for the wonder it is."

Odin, Thor, everyone except his mother seemed to think their disapproval would be enough to stop him. She understood, though, to Loki magic was akin to life. To stop would be to die.

"Magic can be stronger than just brawn," Anthony said. "You cleared a room in a moment. Not even the strongest man could do that. I don't understand," he told his prince with a venomous ferocity. "I don't understand why anyone would discourage it." He was speaking again with that 'unruly tongue' again but he had not been reprimanded for using it save for when he was getting too familiar with his master.

Anthony was just passionate.

"I heard that the Queen is a powerful sorceress. And I've met a few in the healing hall at the village... Why would they call you names and still go to people with your talents for help?" He saw this caste system with marked unfairness... But did not transfer that to slavery.

Not yet at least. Anthony was too smart for his own good. Perhaps Loki saw that chaos in him.

"What you can do is amazing, my prince. Amazing. I won't listen to their lies."

Loki did not know if Anthony's passion would last, it was easy to say these things safely in Loki's chambers and a whole different thing to stand up to the scorn of other slaves, or even other Asgardians. He may find that his loyalty did not quite stand the test of such things.

At least Loki planned to wait some small time before revealing himself a Jotun. He doubted that Anthony's loyalty would stretch all that far when he learned as much, or perhaps his little chaotic Midgardian would surprise him even then. A smile pulled his lips up, though it had a hint of bitterness behind it.

"Such is not the opinion of our realm. A warrior does not fight using trickery, but with honest steel and fists, it is considered weak and cowardly. But I thank you for your support."

He rose again, green light enveloping him almost defiantly to change his clothes to his feastday best in a moment.

"Now come, we have tarried too long."

Anthony found the feast to be lavish despite how small the other slaves made it out to be. This was not an important milestone birthday for Thor and so there were fewer games and courses. Already in his cups by the second course, though hardly drink by normal standards, Thor stood when the All-Father and his consort were announced and they strode in like sunshine and moonlight combined into one being.

Anthony was enthralled to see them. He knew their youngest possessed him as property but to see one's King and God so close left Anthony with many mixed emotions. It was glorious and he was also just a little distraught. That man gave him up when his parents died. And he still didn't know why.

He could have made Odin proud.

Thor embraced his parents, James watching with a smile, and Frigga held a hand out to her youngest. Anthony, meant to accompany Loki anywhere, was quick on his prince's heels as the music played up again. He was certain he could feel one steely blue eye on him a moment later and he looked down quickly.

Odin was not pleased to see Howard's son but now was not the time for discussion. He would speak to Loki at length another time. Tonight was celebration for Thor and so he held his wise tongue and had Thor presented with his gifts. None would be so great as Steven, who was already downstairs in the slave quarters celebrating. He was not a personal slave to a guest and not a palace serving slave and so was not needed at the feast upstsirs.

That first year was a year of discovery for both master and slave. Anthony was given his first infusion of golden apples, after Loki had refused to tell Odin why he had chosen that particular slave or agree to sell him to another. They learned how to live alongside one another, one to serve the other in better ways, until Anthony knew Loki almost better than he knew himself.

One year became two, because four, became fifty.

Anthony had become, to Loki, more than a mere personal slave. He had become a friend, a lover, and a confidant. The roles of their lives were less rigidly defined when they were in private, though they were maintained properly in public spaces. Anthony was treated well, obviously a favoured slave, and given gifts of machinery and tools to do with as he would.

Steven, too, rose to prominence. He had formed a fast friendship with James, who had decided after only five years that he would be the one to replace him when he finally fell. Surely nothing could go wrong in their lives, charmed for half a century, such a long time to a slave even with a prolonged lifespan.

The day dawned as might seem no different, but as Anthony slipped past the kitchens towards the slave's bathing chambers, he would hear a hammering on one of the side doors to the palace. Insistent, desperate...

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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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