fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

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.

Idle for the first time in just over a year suited Thor. He laid on his back, tossing a well formed metal ball up and catching it under a canopy of trees. Steven was with him and the other servants played their own games with those of the Warriors Three, who were laughing about some sort of wager by the river. The sun was shining. The All-Father was back on his throne, and though he had listened to Thor’s plea to go to Jotunheim, he bid him to wait a day or two while he deliberated.

Thor had no idea that it was more like a stalling tactic since Loki had already returned. It gave Thor a little leisure at least and he tilted his head towards his very vigiliant Steven with a laugh.

“Learn to relax. Life with me need not be so difficult.” Steve was taking his position a little too seriously. He needed to unwind as James had. It was what made James so ideal. Thor did feel a little guilty for constantly comparing the two, however. He still smelled the ashes of James’ body from time to time as he watched the smoke ascend to Valhalla.

No one else spoke about that night. As All-Father, he could do as he liked but even his friends found it odd.

"What shall we do today? Your choice."

Give it another couple of hundred years and Steven might start to unwind properly, but he still felt keenly the position of being the personal slave to Prince Thor himself. He was very fond of his master, though, and his warmth and personality shone through in odd moments like this where he grinned at the prospect of being given the choice of what to do, rather than protest that it wasn't his place to decide.

"May we swim, my prince?"

Steven loved to swim. All slaves were taught all the basic skills needed, but there were no lakes or rivers in easy reach of the capital, and so swimming had been done enough to learn and not for pleasure. He had adored it, though. Sun on his bare skin, the silky feel of the water, battling the way the flow of the water wanted to take him.

And to swim with his master, to see his powerful body naked in the water, would not be a hardship at all.

Steven never disappointed, not in anything. He never had to be reprimanded, he carried on long passed the time any other would have quit, and he was kind and generous with those lesser than he was. James had seen that in Steven immediately. They’d become fast friends. Then again, from what Thor had seen, Steven was fast friends with everyone. Even people others would not associate with. He helped without being asked and he relieved others of their burdens without complaint. Thor had spent fifty years barely registering his existence since his focus had been on James, but now he wondered how he had missed it all these years after the last had been spent under Steven’s care.

Loki had known him better than himself and chose this one so very wisely for him. It was something not to be forgotten.

“A swim it is,” Thor laughed, already striping as he headed towards the river. It was rocky along the edges but soft silt soon took over before the bottom emptied out. Thor’s hair laid upon the water’s surface as the dappled sun left the leaves and kissed his skin golden. The cool water was soothing and he gazed up at the sky he had been gazing at since his youth. He and Steve would be joined by the others soon enough, but for now, they could enjoy their swim together, up and down the current.

Steven whooped with joy as he stripped his clothes off and dove into the water with delight, for a moment forgetting all decorum in the sheer happiness of being given what he wanted. The water was deliciously cool in the hot summer sun, and he could quite easily stay there all day. He even risked diving under and tugging at his master's thick legs as he passed by to try and duck him under.

Alas, they would not be given much time to themselves.

One of the slaves from the palace came running up. It wasn't her place, she was a kitchen slave, but she had always wanted a higher station and saw her chance here. Anthony had been to the kitchen for the sort of foods Prince Loki used to enjoy, and she felt that if she told Prince Thor then maybe she would be rewarded.

"My Prince!" She fell to her knees at the water's edge, hand over her heart. "I believe Prince Loki has returned."

Despite the fun he had been having with Steven, and then Fandral who had come over to join the attempt at dunking him, the moment the name Loki was mentioned, Thor tore out of the water quickly enough to create a tidal force that dragged everyone near him under. He didn’t waste time with a mount, he simply dressed and summoned Mjolnir. Steven would wrangle the others back to the palace, either now or after he had his fun of swimming. Thor no longer spent much thought on him.

He landed with a crash of armour and high spirits in the courtyard and rushed towards his brother’s chambers. “Loki!”

He sounded exuberant as he beat on the chamber doors, calling out his brother’s name again. He’d been planning to visit him, but here he was instead! Today was truly a perfect day!

There was a call from the other side, not his brother, but a voice he vaguely recognized. “Prince Thor, call again tomorrow, my prince is resting.” Anthony didn’t like formalities, but sometimes he had to speak that way. He could almost feel Thor’s displeasure through the door. “I said come back tomorrow!”

It was not fair on Anthony to have to bear the brunt of Thor's determination or displeasure, but Loki really was in no state to see him. Despite his fears over what might happen in his future, exhaustion had overtaken him after eating and having Anthony help to smear the honey across his many wounds. He was asleep on his furs, naked and completely without any illusion to cover his thin and damaged body.

This was what he instructed Anthony for.

Nobody comes in, not without his express permission and forewarning. But how could one Midgardian slave possibly hope to keep out Thor, who had the strength of ten Midgardians in one fist alone? He stirred slightly on the bed, a slit of green appearing beneath closed lids.

"I must rest, Anthony."

That was it, all he could manage before he slid out again.

Determined to let Loki rest, Anthony closed the doors to the antechamber before he opened the ones to the hall. He stood, scowling up at Thor, fire and annoyance in his gaze. “He’s sleeping. He’ll see you when he wakes up.”

“Move aside, slave, that could be days from now.”

“And you will wait days from now if you must,” Anthony said, hands on his hips. “All you’ll do is anger Prince Loki and he could well decide it better to sleep in Jotunheim than in his own bed.”

The gall of the Midgardian nearly had Thor ready to rip his head off, but he made a valid point and Thor could see the wisdom in it. His anger vanished, but he settled on the leather clad sette by the door, arms crossed. “I shall wait.”

Anthony did his best not to roll his eyes but his best was not good enough in this regard. He shrugged to cover it and backed away towards the door he’d shut. He was quick about it, but Thor would still see a sliver of the emaciated man curled up in the furs. His eyes widened, but he said nothing even as Anthony shut the doors and blocked Loki again from his view. The Midgardian closed the curtains to Loki’s bed and tidied up his meal before he crawled into bed with him and snuggled close.

This was one of the reasons why Anthony was so valued. Very few slaves, even if loyal to their masters, would refuse an order from a higher ranked Aesir. But Anthony had not only refused, he had managed to battle Thor down to wait, and then kept his privacy. He did not know that Thor had seen a glimpse of him through the open door.

His arms opened and he pulled Anthony close, holding him as one might hold something truly prized. He would not allow his slave to leave the furs for the next two days, only to relieve himself and fetch water, otherwise he would be pinned and slowly penetrated as often as Loki wanted. It wasn't a rapid rut to relieve stress, but a gentle relaxing activity as he healed. He probably shouldn't take him at all, but he wanted to, he wanted to mark Anthony as his again.

Thor would be waiting out there for nearly three days if he did choose to wait, before Loki emerged with the illusion properly in place once more.

Being reclaimed was not for the pleasure, though Anthony felt pleasure. He just needed to be wanted in this way again, to enjoy the role he'd held for years now. If he could not be a good slave in all things, he would have been so very far diminished. But Loki was as thorough as ever and Anthony was allowed to be enjoyed again. He wasn't ruined after all.

Thor had ignored the sounds of pleasure coming from Loki's room, though he was growing steadily more annoyed at signs that his brother was awake and ignoring him until the doors were swung open.

Thor climbed to his feet, disheveled, but warily pleased.

"It has been a long while since you've left for this long," Thoe said. "Not since you went with mother to Vanaheim to visit our brothers. I was worried you would not return until I left the throne and I see that I had been wise to guess it true. For I am no longer All-Father. And here you are."

He wanted to embrace Loki. But he just held out his hand instead.

"You were missed sorely."

Loki did not care that his brother waited upon his pleasure. He had waited a whole year of agony to reclaim what belonged to him, and he intended to explore every inch of him and mark him as one owned once more. It was only when he felt a little stronger in himself and had the magic reserves to hold his illusion that he left the room to face Thor.

The first thing that he saw was pleasure, and it near buckled his knees in relief. He had feared scorn or being turned away, for he had abandoned his realm and family, but Thor seemed only happy to see him. He reached out and grasped Thor's forearm tightly, a small but tentative smile at his lips.

"As were you."

He would not admit that Jotunheim had been a disaster, but he needed a reason to have returned.

"Though my origins truly lie among the ice, my heart is here. I feel more a son of Asgard than of Jotunheim."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject