fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

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...

Normally, Anthony would just bathe in Loki's chambers. He did so any day that Loki did not have another guest in his bed. He'd been the guest the night before so there was no worry of seeming improprietious. That was not the reason for his little jaunt that morning. Bruce typically bathed as early as possible and despite their heads butting from time to time, the only person that Anthony liked nearly as much as Loki was Bruce. Steven was still a great friend but not someone Anthony loved.

It was hard to express that emotion, however. So Anthony just tormented Bruce instead whenever he was able. His feelings were kept wrapped up to himself. He'd learned to do that very quickly.

Pausing outside of the door, Anthony groaned. If he missed Bruce today he might not be able to see him for some time given the hunting trip that the princes had planned. But he couldn't just let that knocking wake up the palace. Slaves worked hard and needed their sleep.

"This had better be good," he grumbled. "You'd better be dying."

Anthony may regret his choice of words when the door opened.

James, usually so handsome and smiling, usually with access to every area of the palace, fell through the door when it opened. He was smeared head to foot in blood, one eye closed against a huge gash down his face, his metal arm ripped clean away. He had obviously taken multiple stabs from blades, as well as two arrows that were still stuck through him, but he had made it here.

He had ridden through the night and somehow stayed alive long enough to reach the palace, but the loss of blood had confused him, he could barely see, and he had ended up outside a door locked from the inside, just pounding on it until someone let him in. He had to warn them-- had to warn them all before he passed beyond this life.

"Prince-- you have to take me-- Prince Thor."

Seeing Banner, it turned out, couldn't wait. Catching James and propping him up, Anthony pushed in the bathing chamber door and spooked the slave who had just started his soak. "Get to the healing hall. Find someone! I'm taking James to Thor but he needs help immediately!"

Over the years with Loki, Anthony had contrived of some pretty amazing inventions, all of which had been magic infused. A little seidr went a very long way and in the braced that Anthony wore was a little infused runes tone that would lighten his load. It helped justify why Anthony needed to be Loki's only slave as he could do all of the heavy lifting and that he was seemingly strong in his small stature helped to tide off insult to Loki himself for favoring such a small and weak slave in his service.

It came in handy now as he lifted and dragged James down the corridor to where it let out in the princely wing. The guards there didn't stop them, they helped Anthony out by lifting James in their arms and carrying him to Thor's chamber.

Anthony turned at the branch towards Loki, waking his prince.

And Thor, who was already up and bathing, tore out of the tub fast enough to crack it as he reached for one he loved too much.

Loki came out of his rooms immediately on waking, but there was little he could do for James. He was no healer, and it seemed that the wounds were mortal ones, how he had lived even long enough to make it to the palace was a testament to his strength and determination.

James, finally seeing the fuzzy outline of his prince, exhaled a sigh of relief that took him just that few steps closer to death. He did not regret his dying, his mortal wounds had been taken in battle, he would serve his master in Valhalla after all. Though he would miss Thor and Steven greatly.

"Muspelheim have attacked," he said, words forced out past bloodied lips. "Three villages gone, I tried-- their armies are here."

He could have chosen to stay and die on the battlefield proper, defending more of the small villages along the way, but then perhaps the capital would have been taken unawares. At least now they could mount their own attack and drive back Muspelheim's forces.

Fire giants.

Anthony, who was stopped in the hallway as Loki entered the room, stood aside for the healers that came running. It would be too late. James had one foot in Valhalla and the Valkyries were already singing him songs of rest. All present could hear them, even Thor, though he chose not to listen as James was laid upon his furs. He had spent most of his life with James, who had grown to manhood years before Thor, the apples only capable of extending his life so much. Midgardians simply were fragile and short lived. Even with the apples that Idun provided for them all out of her enchanted gardens.

Thor pressed a palm against James’ cheek as if willing his strength into him. His eyes were filled with rage and with tears.

“I will deny them a chance to follow you into paradise,” Thor said gruffly. One single tear dripped from his lower eyelid to create a faded rose blossom on James’ bloody cheek. “They will line the gates of Hel and give her much trouble finding space for them all in the gray nothingness. Will you drink for me tonight, James, when you reach the great hall? Will you say hello to my grandfather, Bor? Will you keep a place for me warm and ready with mead? It may be some time before I follow you, for I will cleanse the Realm of all natural denizens of Muspelheim.”

Steven was in tears himself. So were some of the guards, though they stood ready for orders. James was well liked, well heeded, and respected for his station.

James heard the song of the Valkyries and it brought a smile to his face even through the pain. He was being sung to Valhalla, he had a place in the Great Hall, he would serve there for the rest of eternity until the call came to fight for Ragnarok. It was a great honour, and everything he had ever wanted. Though he would greatly miss Thor, he had died in a way that any Asgardian would be proud of.

"I will keep your place, even if it takes ten thousand years for you to claim it."

Those were his last words.

Despite the blood and the way his body had clearly been ravaged with injuries, he looked peaceful and content as he died with his face against Thor's hand and his body pillowed on the softest furs, which would need to be well cleaned to remove the blood from them after this.

Loki stepped forward to place a hand to his brother's shoulder, knowing his rage would be terrible in grief.

"Father must be told."

Thor pulled an arm away from Loki. His brother was not offering him sympathy since James was little more than property, but he didn’t want to be touched right now while his blood was on his hands. “You will tell our Father,” Thor said between clenched teeth as the healers came to carefully wrap the body. “You will hold it for me. I will burn it on a pyre built by my own hands when I have finished my task,” Thor commanded, storming out of the room. “Steven, to my side!” He told the guards to fetch the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif as well before he disappeared, Steven running out of the room after his prince as Loki, Anthony and the healers were left alone with the body.

Anthony stepped into the room, face grim. “I can inform the All-Father if you wish to catch up to the Prince,” he offered. They were not alone but the healers did not pay attention to palace politics. They were busy singing the songs of the Valkyrie, long since departed, just in case James had not quite yet found the strength to move from his mortal body to the Great Hall of Valhalla.

He gazed down at the bloody silken sheet. He hoped one day to be that important to Loki. He hoped one day to drag himself, bloody, to his feet. No other died as bravely as James.

Odin would not be pleased.

This had been one of the omens that had been foretold that might lead to doom, that the fire giants could raze Asgard to the ground, and somehow the alliance of Loki and his slave Anthony were connected to it. He had tried to keep it from coming to pass by sending the child away, but it had not been enough. The trouble was, he did not know how they were to cause either ruination or salvation.

Loki glanced over his shoulder at Anthony and nodded, giving him permission to go and carry the news, before he simply disappeared into thin air and reappeared beside his brother as Thor strode through the palace grounds.

"You cannot go to face their forces alone, that is a poor tribute to James."

“I will bring the army,” Thor spat. “Needs I must see the damage for myself.” Mjolnir had already appeared in his hand, much to Steven’s amazement since it was the first time he had seen the hammer wielded, a gift to Thor only a few years back really. “My generals will ready the forces. We will not let James’ sacrifice be in vein. I will protect our people.”

He did not stop to speak with Loki as a brother, he did not stop to even look him in the eye. It was everything in him to keep from running. He knew from experience that every moment in battle counted, but he also knew that he needed a few moments to think with a clear head.

Now was not the time for weeping. James would have a glorious send off, but it would come with time, after the hordes were defeated.

The last uprising against the throne of the Realm Eternal was a millennia before. Thor almost didn’t know how to handle this save to satiate his rage upon it.

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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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