fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

Bruce didn't know if they would be so accommodating to any request coming from Anthony and, by proxy, from Loki given the current climate in the palace. But he would do his best, and Queen Frigga was the most likely to be disposed to grant a request made like this. Anthony might find that the work was harder and less stimulating in the palace, though, for he would not be allowed special dispensation without his master present.

Unfortunately they wouldn't make it all the way back to the palace before Anthony would have to get off his horse and rest, the saddle wasn't kind to someone who had suffered his kind of injuries. Bruce was sympathetic and gentle as he got the camping gear out and offered his companion some food.

"Do you want to discuss it?"

"My change of lifestyle? Not really. I'm not looking forward to folding sheets or cleaning pots and pans," Anthony said, grateful that Bruce signaled a rest. The others that had been liberated were grateful as well and with the shelter of an under hang and a river a few paces away, it was the perfect place to bed down, even with the sun newly risen. The shade was plentiful.

Anthony used one of the bandit's bedrolls to hunker down on, carefully turned to rest on his right hip, facing Bruce.

"Or do you need me to dust books and old parchment for you? Clear up your pens of clotted ink?" Yes he was deflecting, but he had no intention of discussing any of this. Not with anyone. He just wanted to heal cleanly before Loki came for him.

Bruce sat down on his own bedroll, pulled a little way from the other slaves who were either isolating themselves to try and sleep, or comforting one another as best they could. Though he felt for all of them, his attention was on Anthony, and he didn't have the energy to focus on more people than that right now.

"When I was a small child, my father and his owner used me in that manner. For many years. It was only discovered when my father killed our owner, and royal forces found me in the basement of the home. Odin All-Father took me on as his own and allowed me to heal, for which I'm grateful."

He told the story in a completely matter of fact way, the pain had healed a long time ago, he was stronger for it.

"I'm telling you that I understand."

Anthony's eyes widened slightly, but he had little words for the other man. Bruce was a good guy, but nothing like what happened to him was what happened to Anthony. It wasn't a violation on his part. None of the perpetrators were Midgardian...and certainly none were related to him.

"I'm... I never knew." Stupid to say, so stupid, because how could he possibly have known? Anthony wanted to put his boot in his mouth for that.

And he also wanted to lean over and smack Bruce for being able to tell that he'd been hurt in that way. If Bruce, of all people, could tell just by a glance... Anthony had no hope of healing properly. Loki would know. He would be damaged. When he came back for him, he'd be cast out into the cold of Jotunheim to freeze.

And serve him right. He should have fought harder...

But how could a Midgardian beat the strength of the Aesir?

It was no excuse.

"Nothing happened to me, though, Bruce. Nothing that wasn't par for the course. I mean, I was captured. Stupid. I let myself be captured when I was on an important mission."

Bruce disagreed. He considered the way he had been forced by their Aesir owner to be a violation as well, but he understood that it was the Asgardian tradition to subjugate through sexual violence as well as physical violence. Many captured enemies were treated in this way, and to find runaway slaves or recaptured slaves dealt with that was was not unusual.

It still angered him greatly, something he tried not to show for Anthony's sake.

"Being captured is no shame, and what happened to you was not your fault. I know that you are afraid of being seen as lesser in the eyes of others for it, but you are not."

He didn't know if his words would actually sink in. Probably not. He had seen more than one slave violated, fret for weeks about their masters finding out, and then be summarily dismissed, cast out without an owner, when it was discovered.

And that was much of the problem. Anthony had seen it happen too. Some of the issues brought before the court revolved around ownership. How many times had brothers come into the throne room at each ofher's throats over a slave? It was the Midgardian that always suffered after that, because no matter who won the right to him or her, their master would still look upon them as marred by another. Dismissed slaves tended to fall under palace protection for a time until they could be sold off or given to poor farmers, who worked those slaves into ash.

Anthony wasn't angry about his potential lot. It didn't matter to him if he was killed. But if Loki no longer wished for him, his heart would break.

He'd been about to roll his eyes at Bruce when those final words hit him square across the face. Tears collected behind his eyelids, unshed.

"You of all people know how fickle Loki is. He won't want me. It doesn't matter if I am at fault or not. He won't want me, it's that simple." Just admitting it outloud left his lower lip trembling. "Fifty years is no time at all. I barely was allowed to love him. And I can't take it back. I can't take their hands off of me. I'm ruined. I'll be ruined in his eyes and you and I both know that."

Bruce wished that he could reassure Anthony that it would not be that way, but of course he couldn't. They both knew that it likely would be that way. Prince Loki was not known for his generosity and, even if he were, high ranking Aesir would never accept a slave that had been marked by someone else, the disgrace would be astronomical.

It wasn't fair and it wasn't right, but it wasn't anything either of them could change. Besides, it was obvious that Anthony truly did love his master, and would likely not hear any words against him.

"Then we need to make preparation for when he returns, if he does spurn you," said Bruce as gently as possible. "If you work well in the palace and impress those above us, you might be kept on there. It would not be such a bad life, hm?"

Better than being sent to the fields, at least.

The younger man nodded a few times, pulling up the blanket though it was not cold. He was just pretending to be sleepy so that maybe Bruce would stop talking about this. He would rather pine for Loki for awhile until he sorted out the reason he quarreled with his brother and mother (if that was possible) and be left to freeze in the endless winter because their reunion would be a few moments of genuine bliss than think too much on his discomfort and shame.

"If he allows me to stay, perhaps I could still bring him meals until he finds another slave to take my place," Anthony mused, which finally caused the tears to fall from his eyes. He turned away from Bruce after that, though he shoulders shook for awhile until sleep took him.

Another day and night brought their return to the palace and the bedraggled Anthony, following Bruce and leading a dozen slaves, arrived to the back entry way where Steven had been sent to see to them. As Thor was the All-Father still while Odin entered his second week of sleep, it was Steven's job as the head slave to do this particular task.

He shone radiantly. Anthony almost had to shield his eyes.

"Hey," he called. "I like the armor." Steven's new attire was resplendent. "So Bruce broke up a bandit camp and we found some new friends."

Bruce let Anthony cry himself to sleep that night and the one after, pretending not to hear it even though they both knew what was happening. He wanted to offer comfort, but what comfort could he offer? The truth was that Prince Loki would discard him when he returned, news of the bandits would surely reach him, he wasn't just called Liesmith because of his ability with them, but because he always found out the truth from others and they couldn't lie to him.

Steven beamed when he saw Anthony finally return, reaching out to pull him into a tight and slightly worried hug. He knew what had happened, he was scared to lose his friend again.

"Good to see you back, it's been lonely around here without you. But-- Bruce has told you, right? Prince Loki has gone, he's in disgrace."

Disgrace.

Anthony pushed Steven away, something he really shouldn't have done, but fifty years of being over Steven in familiarity and ranking and having anyone speak a word of disparage against his Master left Anthony bristled. "He's not disgraced. He had an argument and he will return." He'd didn't dare say that Loki would come for him. Or what might happen then. Anthony would defend Loki to the bitterest of ends. "He's still the prince, unless that's changed. No? Then do not tell me my master has been disgraced."

It didn't matter that Steven now was James' stand in. Or that Prince Thor was All-Father. He would absolutely not let anyone bad mouth Loki.

"I'm beat, okay? I need a bath and I have to see what sort of mess Prince Loki's chambers are in. So see to the slaves. I'm going inside."

He muscled around his friend. He would not be going to the healing halls. They would record his injuries. Anthony wanted to tell Loki himself.

Steven stood with a small frown on his forehead as he watched Anthony go, but he didn't reprimand him even though it was his right now. As the All-Father's personal slave, one valued for companionship as well as service, he stood above all other slaves. Even Loki's. But his friendship with Anthony kept him from calling him to task.

Loki's chambers were as they had been left, though a thin layer of dust covered things after several days without being disturbed. Even the last book he had been reading was still out and open at the page he had stopped at, almost as though he had simply stepped out and would return shortly.

But he wouldn't.

Even if Frigga gave her permission for Anthony to join the palace staff (which she would), it would be over a year before Loki returned to Asgard's gates.

The day after the Odin All-Father opened his eyes, the day after Thor could reclaim the Odinson name and beg to be allowed to travel to Jotunheim as a deligate of Asgard requesting the return of Jotunheim into the fold as vassal, forgiven of uprising and restored to all former glories, Loki returned. Frigga felt it first, jumping to her feet, dressed only in the early morning air, from her husband's bed. Her handmaiden rushed to clothe her. Her slave rushed to her side for orders.

Elsewhere in the palace, though Anthony had been remitted not simply to palace care, but to Thor's slave stables in the interim, he more often than not slept in the little room Loki gave him the day he was purchased. He wanted to always be ready for Loki to return and Thor, perhaps out of neglect (for though he gave his own slaves a great deal of freedom, he paid them all save Steven little attention), or perhaps out of trying to keep hope of Loki's return alive in his chest, the crowned prince never said a word about the strange slave who cleaned Loki's room and tended his horses and stood silently over his place at large feasts.

If it wasn't for Bruce and Steven, Anthony would have lost all touch with reality or wasted away.

Frigga burst into Loki's chambers to find Anthony quietly sitting by Loki's bed and snapped her fingers. "With me, immediately." He did not argue and she grasped him close before teleporting to her son.

The second day on arriving in Jotunheim, Loki had realised what a terrible error he had made. He had thought himself so powerful as a sorcerer, but he was proven wrong. What was power on Asgard, was the learning of a young adult on Jotunheim, where every giant had their very blood infused with seidr. He had been overwhelmed quickly, the Casket taken, and imprisoned.

He was not wanted, he had always been a runt. Malformed, left to die. They had lied to him before about why he had been left in the ice, they had played on his desire for understanding in order to trick him into retrieving the Casket, and now he was kept chained. Tortured with heat, with things he cared not to name, to try and make him betray Asgard.

It had taken him all this time to get free.

Pride forced him to hide the state he was in, thin and wounded and scarred, for he had fled Asgard with the surety that he would help Jotunheim renew itself. He could not bear to be seen as a failure. He had scarcely returned, illusion painting him the same as he had ever been, when Anthony and his mother appeared before him a half day's walk outside the main city.

Frigga saw through it all but said nothing, embracing him gently without giving away that she was gentle on purpose. Anthony was almost stoic behind her, face a mask, though it was as if his eyes were drilling into Loki, and bleeding because of it. He was just this splotch of a slave, though the turmoil he'd lived for a year with was cracking. It might not have penetrated his mask, but he was not a good liar and despite his proficiency to distract away from topics he didn't like, he had no where to hide his truths right now. So he fused to the spot like a painting, oils bubbling and pigments sloughing off like dead skin.

Frigga did not embrace her boy for too long. She drew back to cup his cheeks and kissed his forehead instead. "My precious son. Returned. Come. You need to rest. I will send your Anthony straight away to the kitchen and you will be allowed to have a good long rest in your own bed. Your slave has kept it impeccable for your return."

She brought his hands to her lips.

"Worry about nothing else until you have settled, my dear one. Come. I will take us all."

Loki felt his resolve almost shatter as he was held so tenderly in his mother's arms, an embrace that still telegraphed love even for a child not of her body who had abandoned them for his own pride. But he did not disgrace himself by crying, he only held her back for the briefest of moments before pulling away.

He could see that something had changed in Anthony too, a dread in his slave's eyes that seemed to him to be akin to one awaiting execution. He would find out what it was in due time, perhaps over dinner. He deserved one dinner, one hour of pretending that he could be home and normal, before he had to face his father or brother.

"Who sits on the throne?"

Had Odin woken? He would let her take him and Anthony back to his chambers, he would let her dispatch Anthony to the kitchens, but he needed an answer for that question before he could let her leave and pretend for a short while that he was still second prince.

Indeed. He was still second prince. Frigga reported that Odin had taken the throne back after Thor's stint as All-Father. She even reported after Anthony was gone that she was relieved for that, but none was as relieved as Thor himself. "It was trial by fire and while he performed admirably, he is not ready to lead. He missed you terribly. You may tell him of your return yourself. When you are ready. And I will keep your father likewise at bay."

She had pressed a golden apple onto his hand and a small pot of healing honey. Neither were accompanied with a single word. She stood once the slave returned, balancing a heavy tray, and left Loki to eat as he wished.

Anthony moved almost stiffly as he put the tray down, eyes lowered, and stepped aside for Loki to eat what he wished. He didn't approach him as he had a year ago when they were alone and he wanted attention. He didn't cheekily lift his face for an illicit kiss. Or unceremoniously offer to undress his Master.

He just waited. Dread had been replaced by acceptance. One last meal, he decided, and then he would tell him everything.

Loki set aside the apple and the pot of honey for now, though both would surely be of great help to him. He needed to know where he stood with Anthony first. It was foolish to be wary of the affections of a slave, everyone he knew would rightly mock him for it. But Loki loved so few people, that when someone earned his affection then it was fiercely and completely given.

Anthony had earned that from him.

This subservience, though, it told him a story that he did not wish to see. Anthony was shamed by his master's absence, he had suffered for belonging to him, and he no longer wished to be his possession. But, of course, he could not say so, and so he served without personality or passion. The food, good though it was, tasted of ash in his mouth and so he set it down half finished.

"Speak your mind."

It was an order, not a request. Better to get this over with.

Anthony wanted this one little slice of happiness. One last meal. One last hour or so to gaze at Loki as his beloved slave, his only slave. his favored. But he was a broken thing and the look on Loki's face cinched it. He knew already. He had looked at him and been disgusted on that hill. He wouldn't want to eat a meal touched by something dirty. It all had happened a year ago but Anthony was still tainted by his. His skin was still marred by the blade that had been used to ruin him as surely as that Aesir's cock had.

He felt a rush of sorrow overcome him and he turned, gripping his black and green tunic. He still wore Loki's colors, but muted. A house slave's garments despite the flash of green.

"I failed you. You told me to do something for you and I didn't," Anthony whispered, cleared his throat, and repeated the last few words again with a small change. "And I couldn't. I let myself be captured by bandits who were stealing from the destroyed villages and those that fled from them towards the city. They took me and your horse. They didn't believe the insignia on my tunic or my jerkin."

Anthony kept his eyes level but they were cloudy now.

"I was bedded. Many times. I don't remember how many times. And I was branded... Bruce knew and let me come home anyway. I kept your chambers clean for you. But I know-- Master I'm sorry for what I did but I know you need better. I can't fix it. I'm prepared for whatever judgement you make."

Loki sat and watched Anthony with piercing green eyes as he told his tale, showing none of the shock and disgust that he felt. Not disgust over Anthony, but disgust that others had dared to touch something that belonged to him. He no more blamed Anthony than he would blame a goblet of his for being dented by someone else, or a book for being torn when shelved by a careless librarian.

This was what had disturbed his Anthony so?

"Tell me what became of the bandits."

He did not address his judgement on Anthony yet, or his apologies. He wanted to know what had become of those who had dared to damage something that belonged to him. One of his most precious possessions. For they would feel the full weight of his displeasure should he be permitted to remain in Asgard beyond today.

"Most-- most were ripped apart." There was a little uptick of the corner of his lips there. Small, a satisfaction. He didn't know which ones died and which escaped. It had been dark. But he still remembered their blood. The smell of it. "Bruce berserked. Some ran, a few, but I think he got just about everyone."

Anthony set his hand upon the table by the tray. It trembled, but his shoulders were relaxed. Saying it all out loud, finally, let a catharsis fall upon him. He was still loathed to leave Loki, especially now that he was returned after so long gone, but he'd been truthful. One last command well played and delivered upon.

He let out a breath and lowered his chin, the sadness in his heart hard to ignore.

"I have never been happier in my life than serving you, my Prince." He could taste salt. He was in tears. That was about as bad as it could get. Tears were not what Asgard prided itself upon and Anthony forced himself to be still before he shamed Loki more.

It was a shame that they had been killed already and he would not have the pleasure of it himself. But he had been witness to one of Bruce's berserk rages once in his youth, and it had stayed with him, he could be comforted that the bandits would have suffered greatly and any who survived would be much altered. None would go to Valhalla, dying the ignoble death of slaughter at the hands of a Midgardian slave.

"Then why do you still wear palace tunics? I have returned, though perhaps for only a short time, you should be wearing my colours properly once more."

He gestured imperiously to the chair opposite him.

"Sit, eat with me. You think I will dismiss you, but you know very little. I told you that you are mine, mine, the arrogance of others does not change what has been set in stone."

For a moment, Anthony misheard all. In his head, Loki was telling him that he needed to leave. He could no longer stay a palace slave. He could no longer be in the palace. He was to go immediately, he didn't care where-- so he nodded and cupped his mouth and was about to turn when reality crashed into him.

In response, he threw himself as his Master, fingers a little too tight and tears soaking against the robes he wore. Anthony would sit and eat, but in a moment. He would subject himself to having his lips sewn shut for being too familiar or being flogged for being too touchy, but it would be worth it just to feel Loki against him again.

The scant magic that his master had pulled around him, however, did not guard against touch, merely sight. And Anthony felt the weakness in Loki's body. "Let me get a healer," he said, sniffling. "Sit, Master please. Let me care for you."

Loki stiffened when he felt arms suddenly and unexpectedly around his injured body, but he didn't push Anthony off immediately. He allowed him to cling for all of twenty seconds, and then he was being forcibly removed, though he did not add punishment to that. Anthony tearing himself apart for so long had been punishment enough.

"No."

It was a flat refusal. He wouldn't let anyone see his hurts, the evidence of his shame and the truth of what Jotunheim had truly been to him. He would eat the apple and use the honey, and he would endure until he regained the weight he needed to lower the illusion properly.

"I will have no healers, I will have none to enter my chambers without my prior knowledge, not even my brother or parents. Is that understood?"

It was all very prideful and Anthony did not like the idea of Loki being injured, but he had no say in the matter. He could just bring him more salves if needed. Anthony was always hurting himself I. His frenzies to create and the healing hall rarely paid him a lick of attention when he slunk in for a jar or ointment or salve covered bandages. "Understood," Anthony said, going to the door to make sure it was barred before he joined Loki at his table.

His eyes were red from tears but his posture was more relaxed and his face looked like like dead fish slapped over the side of a boat. He leaned against a finely worked arm rest and pulled his knees up to cross beneath him rather than hang over the edge of the seat.

He couldn't help but gaze at his prince.

"Bruce took good care of me. Thank you. For that letter. Queen Frigga made arrangements for me to continue my duties until you came back, Master. I left everything the way you had it. Minus the dust."

Loki felt as though he had very little left except for his pride. That was what had driven him away from Asgard and it's all he had now that he returned. He didn't want people to know that he was seen as an abomination even in the land of his birth, that he had been tortured by the one who gave him life. It was too shaming.

Anthony did not count to the shame, he was a slave and he was loyal. He alone would be allowed to see the hurts which had come to him and assist in healing them. He would be by his side when he took revenge on the land that he now wished to see destroyed with every part of him.

"Then Bruce shall find his reward in carrying out my instructions, I would not have had you lost to me for a few months absence, but your body could not withstand Jotunheim."

He returned to his own chair properly and began to pick at the meal again. Despite how much he needed nourishment and rest, he would find no joy in either until he knew what his fate would be with his father and brother.

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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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