Loki (
throneenvy) wrote in
fossilised2017-05-15 01:29 pm
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I come from a land of ice and snow
Asgard sat atop the branches of Yggdrasil since time began, and little had changed in their society in the years since. Each Asgardian was long-lived into the millennia, their lands were fertile, their people brave and strong. They had their vassals, their allies, and their enemies. Yet even those who opposed them respected the might of the Golden Dias, and the royalty who sat upon it. Currently that was Odin Borson, though he grew weary more easily now and had begun to consider passing the throne to his eldest son.
He had been blessed with many children, but only two that he considered worthy of his lineage and status. His firstborn, Thor, strong and honourable and everything an Asgardian warrior should be. His second son, Loki, was not natural born, though none knew that but his wife. He was different, a creature of magic and mayhem, of sharp intelligence. Both were worthy, but together they would take Asgard to a new prosperity, he was certain of it.
Midgard, where the mortals dwelt, was a land raided every few centuries for stock. It was seen as a breeding ground, much like a corral for cattle. Mortals were lesser, short-lived and weak, they were fit only as slaves. The last raid had taken place when Loki had been but a baby, nearly a thousand years ago, but the mortals that had been taken had been bred and cared for so that a healthy slave population still thrived. Slaves were given a weakened mixture of Idunn's crop with their food, to extend their natural lives to at least a few centuries in order to make them worth the effort to train. They had no rights, but they were taught well that this was their natural position.
All slave children were raised in a central pen and taught the same when small, those that then displayed talent at cooking, riding, hunting, housework, artisan skills, or singing were then measured off to be specially trained for higher masters. Every five years those who could afford to buy a slave, or those of high enough status to simply demand them, came to the corral and chose. Those who were chosen were special, were envied, and those who were not ended up working the fields out in the far reaches of Asgard, the most menial of work.
Anthony and Steven had been friends since they were little and being raised in the large pens together. Both had excelled, Anthony at crafting and Steven at warrior's skills, but neither were chosen when they were five, nor ten, nor even fifteen. Now, at twenty, it was their final chance to be chosen before they would be assigned to one of the meanest farmers beyond the borders of the great capital. Steven woke Anthony as the dawn rose, mingled excitement and nerves on his face.
"Anthony! Wake up, I've got news! I heard the overseer talking to one of the passing guards, and Princes Thor and Loki are coming to the corral today."
He had been blessed with many children, but only two that he considered worthy of his lineage and status. His firstborn, Thor, strong and honourable and everything an Asgardian warrior should be. His second son, Loki, was not natural born, though none knew that but his wife. He was different, a creature of magic and mayhem, of sharp intelligence. Both were worthy, but together they would take Asgard to a new prosperity, he was certain of it.
Midgard, where the mortals dwelt, was a land raided every few centuries for stock. It was seen as a breeding ground, much like a corral for cattle. Mortals were lesser, short-lived and weak, they were fit only as slaves. The last raid had taken place when Loki had been but a baby, nearly a thousand years ago, but the mortals that had been taken had been bred and cared for so that a healthy slave population still thrived. Slaves were given a weakened mixture of Idunn's crop with their food, to extend their natural lives to at least a few centuries in order to make them worth the effort to train. They had no rights, but they were taught well that this was their natural position.
All slave children were raised in a central pen and taught the same when small, those that then displayed talent at cooking, riding, hunting, housework, artisan skills, or singing were then measured off to be specially trained for higher masters. Every five years those who could afford to buy a slave, or those of high enough status to simply demand them, came to the corral and chose. Those who were chosen were special, were envied, and those who were not ended up working the fields out in the far reaches of Asgard, the most menial of work.
Anthony and Steven had been friends since they were little and being raised in the large pens together. Both had excelled, Anthony at crafting and Steven at warrior's skills, but neither were chosen when they were five, nor ten, nor even fifteen. Now, at twenty, it was their final chance to be chosen before they would be assigned to one of the meanest farmers beyond the borders of the great capital. Steven woke Anthony as the dawn rose, mingled excitement and nerves on his face.
"Anthony! Wake up, I've got news! I heard the overseer talking to one of the passing guards, and Princes Thor and Loki are coming to the corral today."
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It was Loki's right to dismiss or even kill his own property if he wanted to, he didn't even have to have a reason for it. Though it was frowned upon to be too cruel, some owners did just kill slaves that they had become tired of, or left them to lives of drudgery on one of the farms.
"Tell me what happened."
Though it was a slave's job to say what a master might not want to hear, it didn't necessarily sit as a good idea if that master was Loki. He was not stable, he was not mature, and he was still too fragile internally. Especially after his meeting with Odin.
He truly hoped his words would sink in with the All-Father. Tough love was not a good idea in this case, it would just break their family further.
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"I can't." Anthony said, because telling Bruce could break Loki's confidence. "I can't tell you anything more. Just let me stay here a little while. I'll leave. I'll figure out where to go after that." He hoped. He didn't quite have a direction though, but he knew that he could not stay. Even hidden in Bruce's room, he would just end up a burden. A slave without a master did not belong in a great house.
As for Odin, he was indeed considering what Bruce said and was in conference with his wife. The Casket could not stay on Joyunheim. By right, Loki ought to be the one to retrieve it. To send Thor alone would disgrace Loki. Frigga knew his son's heart better than any. So it was to Frigga he went for answers his own wisdom could not supply.
But that did not cure the situation with Anthony.
One slave was trivial though. Even if that one slave was destined for so much with his son.
"You'll care for him, right. Bruce? He needs someone to love him. He has trouble loving himself."
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Not that the slaves knew any of these things were occurring.
Bruce shook his head, though not in a refusal to care for Loki, more in disappointment that this situation was even happening.
"Alright, don't tell me. Just tell me if he dismissed you in anger, or if it was a calculated choice."
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Anthony pulled himself up to look st Bruce with beautiful, wet amber-hued eyes. He wrapped his arms around the usually stand offish slave and held him as if this might be the last time time he was able to.
"He won't change his mind this time, Bruce," Anthony whispered. "I'm sunk. I have only myself to blame. So please mind him." A sigh escaped his lips as he pressed his face against Bruce's neck. "If I were female or you were, I would ask to be yours. You've meant so much to me here. And we would have some really cute kids."
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It would have been a much harder case to deal with if he had been dismissed as a logically thought through action, that sort of thing didn't tend to be swayed by emotion and time.
"Of course he's not going to apologise to you. But I would wager that one day soon he'll send for you, and expect you to go to him as though nothing has changed. He won't acknowledge what he did, and as long as you don't either, then he can go back to normal without sacrificing his pride."
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"If that's true... I'll wait for him. I'll find a place in the slave quarters and wait until he needs me."
Hopefully that wouldn't take too long. Anthony was not patient.
When he left Bruce's room, he would dig out a place for himself in an empty bunk and set his jerkin aside. He had projects to work on at least. Something to keep him busy. Occupation was the only thing that kept Anthony from falling to apathy.
When dinner came, Thor stomped his way to Loki's chambers, Steven in tow, and dropped into one of the chairs at an unset table bare of food. Without Anthony, no meal had been set. Thor looked even more gloomy. "You must also be upset, brother, being denied what is our right." Thor glanced to Steven and the blond would know to fetch drinks. He'd learned quickly. "To have our mission taken from us-- and all because Mother is bored?! A Queen should never be bored!"
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He had truthfully forgotten that he had promised to dine with Thor, and looked up in irritation when his brother interrupted to sink into a chair. Words of accusation and annoyance were cut short, though, as the implication of Thor's grumbles sank in.
"Mother is going to Jotunheim in our stead? Does Father know?"
Surely not. After all Odin had said about punishment and not allowing Loki to get away with it, he cannot have sanctioned Frigga to go in his stead.
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Anyone listening to Thor now would laugh at the nonsense he was spewing but he was genuinely angered and feeling slighted.
"Do you think our Father has discovered a distaste for ruling? Do you think our mother has told him that I did a fine enough job and to just leave it in my hands now that you have returned?! Loki!" Thor was on his feet in a near panic. "Have they been enchanted to live out their youths and are we to become their parents?!"
Even Steven was fighting to keep a straight face at this hysterical ranting as Thor paced.
"It is not natural. It is not right to take glory from the hands of your sons and to force upon them duties they are not equipped for. Did he not name me general? Did he not name you chief strategist?!"
To Thor, this was the punishment.
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He could not believe it.
Surely the All-Father had not such compassion in him, or even that their mother could have swayed him. He was notorious for not listening to advice or changing his mind, his own wisdom enough. He believed in toughness and lessons and punishment, he would not allow Loki the benefit of staying free from Jotunheim. Not unless he had another punishment in place prepared.
"I asked him not to send me," said Loki, voice low and startled. "I told him that I would not go back to Jotunheim, but he said it was to be my punishment. Why would he revoke such a thing?"
A campaign to be in charge of, yes that would be reward indeed. But not this campaign, this was no glorious battle or charge against enemies, it was theft from those who had humiliated him.
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He watched Loki for a moment, and then took the cup Steven offered him only to put it down again before he strode towards his brother. Something terrible had happened then on Jotunheim and Odin and Frigga had gone to teach a lesson to those that remained upon that broken Realm. Sense flooded him and he put a hand out to Loki's shoulder.
"Well then. It seems as if he has decided that you were punished enough. Do you not remember when we stole the cask of ale from the sea witch? He'd initially commanded me to return it but changed his mind instead at the last moment and returned it himself." Thor had gotten a good telling off from their mother for putting himself and Loki in danger and his punishment had become the knowledge that he had done the wrong thing.
Thor yanked Loki into his arms after that and sighed.
"There will be other campaigns. Let us not be too disappointed about this one." Of course, it was only Thor who was disappointed but he tended to only think about himself.
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Shock faded slowly.
That Odin would show him such compassion left him highly suspicious. He was not like Thor, believing that learning he had done wrong would be punishment enough, and he was no child any longer to have such gentle lesson. Surely another punishment would be coming, the All-Father would not let this rest.
"They must surely return before long, the might of them combined will make this campaign a short one, and I must speak with the All-Father as soon as he returns to Asgard."
He pulled back from Thor, eyes hard with suspicion.
"There is much at work here that swims beneath the surface."
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Thor didn't respond. His mind was stuck on the skin and bones that was his brother, at the somewhat deformed spine he'd felt on his palms, at the lack of muscle definition-- He could not formulate words to that and so after Loki pulled back, Thor stood as if he had been fully stunned or encased in ice.
Suddenly, he understood everything. He felt the rage that Odin must be feeling and their mother-- she was far more frightening than Odin would ever be.
"He went to avenge the wrongs done upon his son," Thor whispered. Loki had been afraid to return to the place he had been so humiliated. Frigga had been angry... This all made the most plausible sense to him at the moment.
His heart sank to his toes.
"I think they mean to bring Jotunheim to heel." And that meant destroying the last of those in power and replacing them with others more sympathetic to their cause.
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"You will never speak of that again."
His voice was sharp like a whip crack, he would not have the Warriors Three and Lady Sif learning of his shame, he would not have it spread around like a common rumour. He would never be able to show his face again.
"Odin All-Father cares nothing for wrongs done against me, I had counsel with him earlier this day and he made certain to tell me my faults that could not go without punishment. If Jotunheim is to be brought to heel, why do that?"
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"Odin All-Father cares about you a great deal," Thor bit back. "Not everything is a slight to you, Loki. Do you remember not the story you told me of a warrior who found a babe left exposed in the snow and ice? You have always been raised my brother. You have always been raised as his son, Loki. Stop this, I beg you. Stop this before you feel a slight and decide once more to leave our family."
Thor likely should not have said those things but he was worried to lose Loki again when he needed him. He didn't do well without his brother as a balance.
Thor folded his arms over his chest.
"You stole. You defected. For you to be told to fetch what was taken seems to be a fair punishment. But he cares enough about you not to make you do this."
Jeni gets a tag before I run out even if nobody else does <3
"I do not wish to leave my family or home again for some time."
The admission was soft and tired. He had fire within him still, fire that would demand retribution from Jotunheim, that would need chaos, that would want to feel true power. But for now that fire had dimmed to a mere ember in the face of being humbled on Jotunheim.
"I stole nothing, even when sending me for the Casket, the All-Father said that it belonged in my hands. It is mine, not Asgard's, nor did I defect. I gave no secrets of the Aesir to the Jotnar. I am no true and virtuous man, but do not attribute me crimes that I have not committed."
The only crime of his, as far as he could see, had been to insult his mother.
Worst morning
“However it is to be, it had been done. We can not guess the All-Father’s plans but if he took only himself and his Queen, I would imagine that war is not what he decided upon. Your birthright will be restored to you, I am certain. It would be a pity should it not be. You and I fought well together when you were in possession of it, as was I with Mjolnir. Perhaps you ought to deem give it a name?”
The casket was a weapon after all. All good weapons needed names.
“But while we deliberate, let us dine! Has your slave been sent to fetch it?” Loki’s chambers looked dismal and Thor thought, perhaps, he’d forgotten. This question, therefore, was just to help him save face.
oh no ): I sent you a PP if you want to talk about it /hug
"Of course he has been sent to fetch it, the kitchens must be slow the evening in surprise as to our dining together."
He glanced over at Steven, clear warning in his eyes.
"Go to find Anthony and see what is taking so long, return with cold meats for us to dine on as we wait if a full meal will be long in coming."
Steven didn't hesitate. Loyal as he was to Thor, he understood that an order like this for a basic task would not be one he needed to get permission on. He simply bowed properly, hand over heart, and ran from the hall. It took him a full ten minutes of running around to find Anthony, for he truly expected him to be in the kitchen and didn't know his friend had been dismissed.
Eventually he burst into Bruce's room, panting from sprinting.
"What are you doing here? Your master has sent me to find you, dinner for the princes!"
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Anthony was not jealous of him, but he felt lesser for what had happened. And lesser still for letting his mouth run on like that so soon after Loki returned.
Bounding out of bed, Anthony grabbed the jerkin he’d flung to the floor and made a little bow to Bruce. “Thank you,” he said, without saying much else. He still hadn’t processed Bruce’s nameless rejection, though it hardly mattered. He could go on caring for someone that didn’t give him the time of day.
And besides, he had Loki back now.
That was good enough for him.
“If the Princes need dinner, why are you looking for me,” he snapped at Steven gently. He just wanted to take the pressure off of himself, and by extension, Loki. “You should have gotten dinner started. Come on. You’ve got a lot to learn about your rank, even if you’ve been at it a whole year already. Jeez, Steven.”
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Steven looked shocked, but he quickly followed Anthony out of the room and back towards the kitchens at a light jog.
"Prince Loki told his brother that he sent you for food some time ago, I was sent to see what was taking so long."
Steven didn't see the subterfuge, but Anthony surely would. This was his way of getting Anthony back without having to admit to anyone that they had been apart to begin with, and making him look incompetent with slow food, was his alternative punishment for speaking back to him.
"I went to the kitchens and they hadn't even heard the princes were dining together! What were you doing in Bruce's furs?"
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“Really none of your business,” Anthony told Steven, knowing what it would look like. He didn’t want it to look like that, but Steven probably had a particular idea him anyway. He’d always spent so much time with Bruce, especially over the last year when Loki was gone, that this could be unseemly. He just had to hope that Steven would keep his mouth shut or Loki might need to have to safe face again by really dismissing him.
Anthony couldn’t let that happen.
But he couldn’t lie about the kitchen supposedly having their dinner underway to be picked up or they would all get in trouble. So he kept his mouth shut with excuses and focused instead on just getting everything done. It took some time pulling on his jerkin while he walked, and trying to get his hair to stick down too. He ended up giving up with that and instead, attempted to out pace Steven to the kitchen. That didn’t work.
He could feel deep blue eyes focused on him as they got together cold cuts and he finally turned to address the confused, annoying blond. “My prince knows what I was doing. If you want to make a scene about it, you can, but it’s going to cause a lot of unneeded heartache. And I’ve been through enough, Steven. I really have. So just forget whatever you think happened because it didn’t.”
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Intensely blue and troubled eyes watched him as he got the cold meats together and set the kitchen staff in a flurry cooking joints of meat, fish, and vegetables as fast as they could.
"I worry because I love you, Anthony," he said in a low voice. "You're my family, the only one I've ever had, I don't want to see you hurt. If you tell me not to ask, then I won't, but I thought we were closer than that."
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Anthony grit his teeth as he tugged Steven into an alcove. The kitchens were so busy that no one noticed them and overhearing them was impossible. “I love you too,” he said with a touch of venom, “so don’t you dare pull that one on me, okay? I would tell you if I could, but I love my prince more than myself. You have to trust me on this when I tell you that I did nothing inappropriate and that I have to put my prince first. Just like you should put yours. And it’s nothing. It’s nothing Steven, I can promise you that with every inch of my soul. My prince has returned and I need to focus everything on him.”
He could never potentially embarrass Loki. Not in front of Steven, not even in secret. Besides, Loki would know.
“But I will tell you this… Bruce holds no interest in me save for a sort of student of his. He saved my life from bandits. He is a friend, but I am not an idiot. My prince is all I need. Same as yours is all you need. Please don’t look disappointed with me.”
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He hesitated long enough to tug Anthony into a tight hug, his always ridiculous muscles even larger now after fifty years of apples and training with his master and James, and then a year of serving so personally.
"I trust you, I'm not disappointed, I'm just-- I was trying to figure it out, Anthony. The princes need fed, and you're going to look incompetent in front of both of them for it taking this long."
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No other slave would be so willing to suffer for Loki to save face. Not like Anthony.
Pushing a cart laden with appetizers, Anthony actually hummed the entire way until he backed into Loki's chambers. His eyes were still red from tears and he still looked a mess, but he was here and that was enough to make him smile sunshine.
"Apologies. Steven is on his way with the main course."
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"Such delay is unheard of, is this the fault of the kitchen staff? Tell me why we have now waited so long for a meal?"
He knew why.
Of course he did, and he gave Anthony the opportunity to divert punishment from himself in order to see how selfish his slave was and how much he believed he needed to be punished for what had happened.
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oops fell asleep on my sofa for a bit there haha
Whoopps! Good nap?
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