fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

"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.

"You cannot go before the All-Father gives his orders. Thor, listen to me, James did not fight his way back here for you to throw yourself into battle, with an army or without. He did it so that we have time to plan and prepare."

Loki placed his hand over Mjolnir's handle, a desperate part of him within secretly pretending that it was his arm that lifted it and not Thor's that kept it aloft. It was a wound that never quite stopped stinging, being told he was not worthy if only by not being the one presented with the hammer.

"Think. The Fire Giants possess strength we do not have, their only real foes have ever been the Frost Giants. But Father would never sanction such an alliance."

"Think, you tell me. Speak with the All-Father! Suggest we ally with monsters-- Loki, you are mad!" Thor roared. "Our people suffer! They are being slaughtered and you wish for me to stand aside and gather provisions as if for a compaign?!" He did not mean to shove his brother but his rage was too blind. "You are the one they call Silvertongued. Your words are sweet. You convince our father of this union with the Jotun. And then join me in battle when he laughs you away. Steven, have the Warriors wait. I will survey the area."

They had reached the courtyard by then and so Thor whirled his hammer and took off. Loki could not fly but he could teleport if he wished to do so in succession to keep from falling... But Thor would not be stopped.

Anthony arrived before the Warriors Three, panting and red faced. "The All-Father calls an audience with his youngest son, my Prince." He had to know from the whispering of Ravens that Thor had gone off.

Loki's eyes glittered strangely with suppressed excitement, though he projected only his anger and worry. Muspelheim had hated Asgard for many years, it had not taken much machination to get them to feel as though they could attack, the perfect way to reunite Jotunheim and Asgard, to bring together the pieces of himself out of the shadows where they were hidden and into the light.

He landed gracefully in the courtyard and glanced back at Anthony, anticipation fading into concern with the summons. He nodded to show he had heard and immediately strode through the palace corridors, calling over his shoulder.

"Ready the horses, Anthony, prepare provisions. We ride when I have spoken with my father."

And with that, he burst through the doors to the chambers where Odin did his work, taking an impatient knee before his father.

"You summoned me, All-Father."

That glimmer-- Anthony had learned well all about what that glimmer could mean. He did not, therefore, go running off to do anything. He heard Bruce’s voice in his head that, one day, there would be a time that he would have to choose between his King and his Prince. That Loki would fall into madness from the magic he used because it was not tempered with feminine wiles. That this was an oncoming disaster he needed to help mitigate by gently nudging Loki in the background.

But he also remembered the questions that Loki asked him before he even knew that he was a prince, or that he was a candidate for ownership.

What would you do if another master asked you to spy on your master and turning them down was not an option?

It was a question about betrayal.

And Anthony felt the same back then as he did now. He would never betray Loki. Never.

Odin rose from his throne, clad in gold and majesty. “I take it your brother would not listen to reason? My son, you must temper his rage. I know the trouble in it. But you must provide a cool head. You have command of the left flank of the army to pull your brother from his folly.”

Loki rose after his brief moment of genuflection, he was the son of the King and not required to wait on his pleasure to stand again. To be gifted such a large part of the army was an honour indeed, but it could so easily lead to disaster. If the armies were not united, for the brothers saw different goals in mind, then they would surely all be destroyed.

"I can do only little to temper Thor's arrogance in battle, he ceased to listen to me the moment you placed Mjolnir in his hands," said Loki, spreading his own hands placatingly. "But we have others that we can call on. End the hostilities with Jotunheim, Father, their punishment has lasted long enough and their magic, and ice, can help us overcome Muspelheim's forces with ease."

The Frost Giants were not the monsters they had been betrayed as. He knew that deep in the core of himself, he knew he was not a monster.

"You know that both Thor and I are untested in battle of this scale, and Muspelheim's might is great."

A darkness, a worry, clouded Odin’s good eye. “The time it would take to broker a treaty with the remains of Jotunheim would take far more effort than we are capable of at this moment. We can not ally ourselves with those we conquer. We can only conscript them. The Jotun will not fall in line, Loki, and we will have war on two fronts. We must crush our invaders first.” Loki’s strategy was fine on paper but he did not understand the dynamic between the two Realms, he did not understand politics, he had never served on one of the several missions let to Jotunheim.

Loki was to be his bargaining chip, but in the end, a royal slave taken hostage had become a son and Odin could not let that truth come out. Not if he cared to rule all Nine realms from the Realm Eternal.

It would upset the balance. It would cause more than just an uprising. The kingdom carved from Yggdrasil by his grandfather would topple. Loki was to be a secret from everyone…even from himself. It was unwise to bring up Jotunheim, therefore and Odin did not have time to offer civics lessons to his son.

“I will prepare the remains of the army here and join you shortly. We will secure the damaged villages first and you will keep Thor from causing more harm. It is my will as All-Father, Loki. Now go and become peacemaker.”

Loki may never have served on any of the official missions to Jotunheim, but he knew far more of them than Odin had ever wanted him to. He had learned to slip through the branches of Yggdrasil in a way that left him free from the constraints of the Bifrost, and he had visited the land of his birth many times. He had met with Laufey, with Helblindi, and with Bylestir.

He knew of what their politics were. Or he believed he did.

"The Jotnar live in a land ravaged and weak, devoid of the heart of their power, how could they hope to rise against us in a second war without being wholly destroyed? They are not monsters, they are people, and they surely want a chance to rise above the situation they are in now. Please, meet with Laufey-King, send a delegation if you cannot go yourself, and bargain for his help."

Loki would not let this opportunity slip through his fingers. He met Odin's gaze fiercely, proudly.

"Or do you truly believe those old tales of the Frost Giants being every bit the monsters that the Fire Giants are?"

Odin’s frown was all encompassing. A few extra moments to discuss politics with his youngest was not the worst way to spend an afternoon, but they were under siege. If either of his ravens were correct, they could be in a disastrous trouble.

“If you had been subjugated the way that we subjugated Jotunheim, my son, would you willingly take up arms and fight with those that conquered you? In time, yes. Look at the other Realms. Midgard serves us willingly. They have learned their place. You are but young and the Jotun live longer than those on Midgard. It will not be until your children and your brother’s children rule Asgard that they will be able to fall in line.” Odin descended the stairs. His son stood taller than he did but it did not bother him to look up.

Loki was not his, biologically, but a father could still be proud of tall, handsome sons no matter how they came under his charge.

“We have no time to seek counsel with the deposed ruling class. I have every intention of bringing Jotunheim back to the fold, but I have lived long enough to know that I will not live to see it happen.”

"Of course they will never fall in line if we approach them as though they should be our vassals, they are a proud and strong people."

Perhaps Loki gave away a little too much of his knowledge of the Jotnar in his passion, for no child of Asgard raised solely on their history and teachings would ever call those of Jotunheim proud, or think to speak at all kindly of them.

"They should be as Vanaheim, allies, but not beholden to us. If they were approached with the Casket and an alliance was forged, a true alliance, then think of the benefit for both of our realms, even beyond the repelling those of Muspelheim."

Loki would not back down on this, he had the blood of two realms running in him and he refused to be broken from it. He was a son of Asgard and a son of Jotunheim, and he would see a way to have them both take the positions they deserved.

Odin's eyes were sharp and for years, the Ravens had been hinting at Loki's visits to his birth father's. He had been hoping for the lie rather than the truth but he had guessed wrong. Very wrong. "You understand little. Vanaheim is ally in name only. They still take the knee to this Realm and have never committed treasonous acts and attempted to raid the claimed Realms. No Loki. They are conquered. They will not have the Casket and there will be no alliance:" Odin was trying not to be so harsh but he could not help the anger feeding into his voice now.

Loki was stepping too far. He likely knew too much and that was just as dangerous.

He could not let him lead the left vanguard in support of his brother at this rate.

"See to your mother. She went to the halls of healing. Since you will not do as you are told, since you might find argument with my decision, you will not be honoured by battle on this day. Now go."

Loki was too young. He didn't know when to stop.

"The Casket is my birthright."

Loki, angered at his father's dismissal of the Jotnar as anything other than subjugated, seeing that as a slight against himself, and stung from having the vanguard removed from him to be sent to his mother instead like a child, lost all remaining control over his tongue. It was the worst of his anger, that chaos took over and he stopped caring what the wildfire set ablaze.

"I would go to Thor and stop him, I do not wish to see him fall to Muspelheim, nor to have them rejoice at his death. But I mean to fight the Fire Giants with the might of Jotunheim at my side, and Asgard will see that they are no monsters. I will not be a prisoner, secretly loathed for what you have tried to keep from me, any longer."

He towered over his father, no fear on his face.

"I am a son of Asgard, and a son of Jotunheim, why can I not fight with both?"

Odin's eyes widened. Anything he had been about to say or should have said was stilted as he opened his mouth and slammed it closed again. His eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed.

Now was not the time for Odin-Sleep, but Loki's revelation had shocked it into him. He looked old and small on the ground. Feeble. Not the mighty warrior that had taken Loki home and raised him as son, not slave.

With Thor in battle, perhaps to die, and the guards rushing around, no one was to see this but Loki. He had his shot at his idea. But of course, Laufey was not the type to be trusted. Odin did not just give himself the name Wise in his youth. He had earned 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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