fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

Loki laughed even as he saw the shock spread on the faces of Steven and Anthony. This was a truly ludicrous reality that he had found himself in, and he was almost tempted to investigate it properly rather than find a way back to his Midgard to replenish stock as he had been sent to do.

"Tell me, Steven, what other purpose do you believe Midgardians have? Look at your world, your people, they are as short-lived and weak as mayflies. I can see the stench of pollution on your world, I can see the bleaching of your plants, I can feel the lack of balance in seidr."

He turned to look at Anthony, eyebrows raised.

"Do you wish to remain here in freedom, Anthony? Should you want to walk away from me into this 'better life' of freedom that you have been offered, I shall not stop you."

Better to nip in the bud now that the slaves were slaves against their will. The first generations may struggle, but only because they knew no better.

It was a test, it was in name only, but Anthony almost panicked. “Don’t send me away.” It was not just because this was the only life he knew, but because he loved his life. Perhaps if Loki asked one of the kitchen fodder, or those that toiled all day in large gangs on a field for a massive farm or a mine, there might be a different response (and Loki surely knew this), but he had asked one that loved him, that appreciated what he had, and who was loyal.

And Rogers saw that anxious look on Stark’s face and scowled. “He’s afraid to say anything else,” he offered as the reason why Stark would not only look that way, but say what he had. It wasn’t a no. It was something more and that was what really stuck with him. “Freedom might be hard, it certainly doesn’t guarantee a better life, but you get to pick where that life goes.” He was still an idealist. And considering how he was raised, and the poverty he lived through, that he was still so positive spoke volumes. “And I think anyone that tasted freedom would understand that. I’m sure where youre from, not everyone is treated the same either. You might be more technologically advanced than we are, but we have a bigger heart and we will defend ourselves…and the people you keep in chains. We can’t let you hurt anyone.”

Though he was about to speak up without being permitted, Anthony found he had no choice. “You’re wrong. You have no idea what you’re talking about. My life has more meaning now than before my prince claimed me. Maybe you should see what it’s like.” A steely gaze lifted to Loki. “Midgard is Midgard. It doesn’t matter what branch we dip from, does it? I want to get home. And these people need your help as surely as the one we were headed to.”

Oh, how tempted he was.

This whole branch of Yggdrasil felt wrong to him, and surely it would to Anthony too who would have picked up a small sense of seidr from his time with Loki. It was out of balance, a place where Asgard did not understand their true sovereignty and all of the other realms suffered for it. Midgardians who truly believed themselves better as free were sad. Even those who toiled in the kitchens understood that this was their place as mandated by the universe.

But he should go to his Midgard. This one was protected by Thor and, possibly, by his Asgard as well. Though it was a sorry affair if he stood in defence of the freedom of mortals. No, his duty was to help here, and then return with news of this rotten branch that should be pruned from the Tree.

"Go to my cabin, Anthony, and find the mirror on my stand. Take it to the warriors and instruct them to look upon it and see the truth."

He felt most would not fight against even an alternate Thor, not unless they could see that their All-Father still gave his blessing to this raid. Which Thor surely would.

"Thor, you must leave my ship. I wish you no ill, for you are blood of my brother, but I am here on authority of the All-Father and will not be spurned."

Anthony did not want to leave the bridge. Steven could protect Loki, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to leave. He didn’t like the face on that impostor. He felt like the other Steven was about to do something drastic. But he still did as he was told. He had Fandral and Sif and the other leaders watch the mirror as Thor All-Father listened to the bizarre tale that Anthony told, asked if he was being tricked, and then said immediately that this Midgard needed their help. How could they let the Realm languish? It was their duty to set it right. He then requested to have Anthony bring the mirror up to the bridge so he could see himself face to face.

Anthony once more did as directed and arrived at the deck with the mirror in his arms help outward. Thor All-Father looked at himself, at his Steven in his shining golden armour, and the other Steven…who looked scrappy and ready to fight. That interested him greatly. “I wish to hear, from my own lips, the state of Midgard.”

Thor Odinson trashed his cloak angrily. “This is my Realm to protect. You must leave. Midgard is a free Realm and none shall harm it!”

“We wish the same things,” Thor All-Father said with a deep and grave voice. He ought to have been there for this… Loki could handle himself but he felt cheated just the same. “Commander Loki. You have my permission and the backing of all warriors in your command to help this Midgard as you see fit.” He was pretty sure that Loki understood that he meant for him to carry out conquest and capture. He could not look weak in front of another version of himself, surely. “And when you are home again, there will be a feast in honour of your righteous and kind service to the people of this poor Realm that you have been delivered to. Fill the pens.”

"Thor!" The darkly dressed Steven almost roared and the Thor beside him lifted his hammer to call forth a storm.

A smile lit Loki's face and for once there was no hesitation as he placed a hand to his heart in obedience. This was chaos being allowed to run loose, but in a direction that would benefit them all. Ignoring the storm called by this foolish and obviously weaker version of Thor, Loki turned and made the Casket appear in his arms, voice calling loudly to his troops.

"Fill the pens!"

He was unafraid to show his blue skin now. Asgard had come to be told, but they understood that his lineage was Aesir, much as Thor's lineage was Aesir despite his Valkyrie blood. He had been raised their prince, and his power was harnessed for Asgard, they would accept the defects of his birth.

Ice shot out in all directions in deadly spears, mostly aiming toward the Thor that stood upon their deck. He would not be taken, he was Aesir even if a bastardised one, he must be slaughtered. He would see to that and allow his slaves, his warriors, to pour over the sides of his fleet and attack.

The ship's dipped sharply, stopping perhaps two stories above the ground so that warriors of every race could jump over the side and land just behind the native people of this planet who had been watching but now scurried away. Some would make it. Some would be a catch and release. Some would die if they resisted too much. The rest would be brought to the ship where they would be sorted and their fares finally sealed. Those that were the most lucky, the children, would likely find placement and grow up loving their masters. In a way, both Anthony and Steven envied these children. There was no set of people luckier than they and being so pure of stock, they would be cherished and loved in return.

On the bridge of the main ship, however, there was chaos. Thor brought down lightning, which Rogers was able to deflect, and though it was directed towards Loki, Steven was there to protect him. The sword he carried was no common steel and it reflected back much of the energy and grounded the rest. Rogers found himself falling with a ringing in his ears only to jump back up again. It left time for Loki to complete his blast and given how shocked Thor looked, the cold hit him directly in the chest. The Aesir growled a scream, fingers balled into fists, and used his strength to break the ice from his armor.

"Back up," Rogers was yelling, to who knew who, and though Anthony wasn't much of r a fighter, he was just as strong as Captain America thanks to his special breakfast and threw a heavy chair at the shielded man, watching it break on his back.

"Anthony!" Loki called, deliberately using the tongue of Xandar which many others had not bothered to learn. But he loved languages and found that Anthony did also, his quick mind enjoying the challenge. "The technology of this world. Disrupt it, kill it, strip it, and take whatever you wish for examination. Go now!"

He did not believe that little rolling chariots with weapons, or things like that flying armour could ever bring them any trouble. He could see already that the Midgardians were falling like a field of wheat before the scythe. A confirmation that the Aesir way was the best way. But they needed to systematically destroy this world, for it was rotten, and the destruction of their technology played into that.

Loki himself focused on Thor, drawing ever more energy from the Casket to fuel his magic, his strength. He attacked viciously, relying on Steven for vanguard support in this endeavour. Thor was strong, of course, even if he was a bastardised version of the Crown Prince, and Loki would feel some small satisfaction to be able to say that he had bested Thor in combat at least once.

Though Anthony did not wish to leave Loki’s side, he knew that it was important to get below deck to nullify the technology of this tiny, backwards, and plainly wrong world. The Asgardian technology he had at his beck and call was nothing like this Realm had ever seen but he had learned to use it on many worlds where Loki had let his mind expand beyond plumbing and little metal birds. He manipulated the runes and crystals with expert precision and though the Midgardians had flying weapons, one by one in a radius extending from the center ship, they fell.

And that included the flying metal armor and the pilot that was supposed to be hard at work with Bruce Banner on analysis but couldn’t help but get worked up once the hellicarrier started to fall from the sky. Without knowing the contents of that suit, Anthony spoke to the nearest warriors to the fallen object and requested that they bring back that treasure in Loki’s name. It was an easy acquisition.

And so too was Steven’s double, once Thor finally fell. The dwarven forged blade in Steven’s hand was the only sort of metal that could pierce the prince’s skin and though it hurt him terribly to do it, when he saw an opening caused by Loki’s relentless onslaught, he took it. The blow would not be the defeat of Thor Odinson, however. That honor would be Loki’s once Thor was brought to his knees, stunned and mouth agape as he gazed up at his brother.

A part of Loki did not wish to deal the death blow. Despite their many differences, his Thor remained one of the most important people in his life, and loved dearly. But he knew that this was no Thor that should be countenanced to live, this Thor saw weakness and did not seek to protect it in the right way, did not seek to correct it. Killing him now was a mercy, it would send him to Valhalla. He knew that his brother would not have hesitated to kill another Loki should the situations be different.

A dagger of dwarven steel was used to slice through his throat to make the death quick and as painless, as honourable, as possible. He would allow him the full dignified nature of an Aesir death, even if he did not deserve one for his actions in life. He had warriors wrap the body, which he would sail when the time came.

Midgard was falling easily, surely this was confirmation to all the slaves they held that theirs was the right way. Steven's other self was below decks, a man caught with bow and arrows had been taken, a red-headed woman who fought like an Amazon, and yet there was no sign of another Anthony. He did not know that even now he was trapped and immobile inside the suit that had been taken by his Anthony.

It was almost pathetic how fast Midgard fell, barely a day and he could already recline, their hulls bursting with new stock to return.

Despite Thor’s relatively simple fall and the speed in which the pens were filled, sorted of the weak and impaired, and filled again with more suitable candidates, Midgard had one more ace up her sleeve. With Anthony on the surface with Bruce, walking through pens of adults looking for those that might be worth taking with them, word of a green monster using vehicles as weapons reached Loki and Steven up on the bridge of the main deck. Steven was quiet. Sword still in hand and face somewhat bloodied, he intercepted the news from the messenger and brought it to Loki personally.

“My Prince, it seems as if we have woken a Midgardian demon in our efforts. We have finished with the Eastern hemisphere culling and have left the cities to lay in fallow but just beneath us, something is raging. Only one warrior caught sight of the demon and lived enough to send word of it before he too perished. I would like to confront this demon and lay him to rest,” Steven requested. “With your permission and blessing.”

Down below, there was a roar. Anthony looked up just in time to see a hulking green being charging down the corridor of buildings to where he and Bruce were standing between rows of caged Midgardians. “I’ve seen a lot of things,” Anthony said, blinking, “but that’s—“

He was not slow, but that said, he wasn’t as well versed in dodging as some. One piece of domed glass and metal with four wheels throws in his direction was enough to make his incessant chatter stop for the moment as he was sandwiched between the street and the object that demon had thrown at him.

If Steven had ever doubted that love between Loki and Anthony, just because it was not seen often, he might have that doubt smashed now. As soon as Loki saw that Anthony had become trapped by the beast, sandwiched between metal and concrete, he surged forwards with a strength and ferocity that outstripped all his previous actions. He created illusions to distract the beast as he teleported his Anthony away, safe to the deck of the flagship of his fleet.

Only then did he return to battle, alongside Steven who was already bleeding and hurting, to battle the creature. Yet nothing they did seemed to harm it. This demon was stronger than a Fire Giant, more resilient than a bilgesnipe.

"To the ships!"

Loki made a decision, this beast would be better hunted with a dedicated party, one which Thor himself would lead when he no longer sat the throne. Their role was to raid, to gather stock, and they had achieved that admirably.

"Let this creature rip apart what remains of Midgard, it is a gift to our All-Father for when he may hunt again."

Later, once Steven had time to come down from his battle high and blood lust, he would come to realize how precious Anthony was to Loki. And later still, he’d be privileged to see Loki nursing Anthony back to health again in private. It would do much to bolster his faith in how he might one day be Thor All-Father’s again, and how he could learn to temper them both. For now, however, he saw to the Midgardian warriors that he had been sent to command, counting the dead, the wounded, and giving a speech about how great their rewards would be for the services done for their betters.

The retreat was even considered a good omen, for the creature was unique in the universe, they felt, and their All-Father, once he was an Odinson again, ought to be allowed the glory of fighting it. Even Sif, who was not at all a fan of Loki’s, came to him on the bridge of the main ship to take the knee and offer him praise and her sword in all future endeavors. He had proven himself a staunch leader and with the Casket, a powerful foe. She and all aboard were honored to have Loki lead their first culling to this strange Realm and she would sing his praises in tales at feasts for centuries to come.

Little that might do for Loki at the moment, however, with Bruce below deck caring for Anthony. He was stable for the moment, but even stability could slip away. Midgardians were not like the Aesir and though bolstered by Idun’s apples, they were not at all resilient.

All totally, Fandral said to Loki’s left as they took their ships far enough upwards that the creature could not leap upon them, they had culled twenty thousand good specimens. “Will we be headed to the training grounds?” The little moon was well known for it’s singular use….breaking and train and breeding those captured. It would be time to rest for the year or so it might take, but Loki would have to give the order.

This was Loki's moment of glory and he felt it keenly. To have even Sif publicly take a knee before him was beyond what he could have hoped for, and yet he could not find the true gladness to take in this moment for his Anthony could slip from him. He was not Thor, who had replaced James with Steven and would no doubt do the same once Steven slipped from him, Loki's slave was unique and irreplaceable.

"Moor the fleet within the opening to the Void, there are changes to be made."

This was the moment where he cemented many loyalties, proving himself capable of compassion and wisdom. Though few would ever suspect that his orders were born only from the selfish need to make certain that Anthony lived.

"Transfer all those who have been injured in this culling to my ship, and all those to be trained to the others. We shall show our property, and those who fight in even the meanest positions, that their worth to us does not go unnoticed. I will take them back to Asgard proper for healing, you may take the rest to the training grounds. I, and perhaps my brother, shall join you before long."

Fandral bowed in acknowledgement of the order.

"Lady Sif shall have command in my absence."

There were many who had been injured. Most were their own slaves, but some Aesir warriors had taken hurt. He mostly wanted to get Anthony to the healing halls and command that they save him, for their magic would do far more than what Bruce could manage.

When Anthony woke up, it would be to the brilliant lights of the Healing Hall and he would wince and turn to push his face back into his pillow. Did Valhalla have to be so bright? He expected it to be loud, but lit only by fire as warriors celebrated and feasted in perpetual evening. Instead, here he was, being blinded. That seemed unfair. Was this Hel, then? He’d been killed in battle, he was sure of it, so why wasn’t he worthy of being sent to Valhalla to await Loki?

That was unfair.

He was about to complain when he realized he was not alone. Loki did not sit directly at his bedside, for that would give too much away, but he instead was speaking with one of the injured warriors who had pledged their allegiance and sword to him now that she had recovered, something she would not have been able to if Loki had not sent the injured back to Asgard.

“My prince…?” Anthony hadn’t meant to call out, but he wanted to see the other from more than just the back. “My prince…are you all right…? Did we complete the mission…?”

Though Thor had offered the feast in Loki's honour, for he had surely earned it, Loki had asked for it to be delayed until all who had participated had returned from the training grounds. Again, a request that seemed wise and kind, but was truthfully selfish for he wanted more people there to sing his praises and remember that the time had come where Loki had taken his glory.

Hearing Anthony's voice made him wish to spin and hurry over, but he did not. He finished accepting the warrior's pledge before he turned and walked over, a man to his slave, nothing more. Though the smile at his lips was fond.

"We have completed the most successful raid in many long years, our praises have been sung in the feasting halls already. You must hurry and heal, for there is much to do and we are both in high demand."

“Working on it,” Anthony said, the tips of his fingers lightly touching the hem of Loki’s tunic. Subtle as always, though he didn’t much worry about drawing attention here. It was just enough to make him know that Loki was real and that they were home for the moment. Steven, who was standing in the corner awaiting Loki’s departure from the chamber so he could follow him, noticed this final act. He was clever, though Loki did not think him to be, and he saw everything that Anthony had been trying to tell him for weeks now. He saw, he understood. It was the only way to keep them safe, to keep them together, and it didn’t seem to take anything away from their feelings for one another.

How he longed to be dismissed of service to return to the one he had left! He just didn’t think he could tell what he learned to Thor…he would have to show him instead.

By the next morning, Anthony was back to his old self and he pushed off any more healing hands to dress and hurry back to Loki’s chambers. He nearly collided with Steven as he left with the breakfast tray and grinned up at his friend and the scar he now had over his left eye. It did no damage to the eye itself but it made him look distinguished. Anthony lifted a hand to touch it and nodded approvingly before they parted company. He cleared his throat behind where Loki sat, eyebrow raised when the other glanced back at him.

“I thought we had a lot to do,” he teased, eyes glimmering. “And I finding you sitting here picking on fish bones!” Maybe it was dangerous to joke that way normally, but they were alone. “When are we headed back to see your quarry?”

Once the healers had told Loki that his Anthony would survive, he felt a knot unwind in his stomach. He wished a way to show his slave how much he was treasured without overstepping the invisible line that must be maintained, and so he had prepared something for his return. Not that Anthony would see it until he eventually made his way into his own little chambers, for on his bed would be a new set of finely worked dwarven tools, the highest quality in the realms.

That was for Anthony to find later.

He grinned as his slave appeared, leaning back in his chair to very deliberately take another bite of his fish despite the teasing.

"How must I perform my work without sustenance? I have been waiting on your sluggish need for rest, I did not think to see you ever rouse from the comfort of the healing halls. I worried that you had become too accustomed to others bringing your meals."

“Have you ever had the porridges that they serve there? They overstewed the apples and the oats into some sort of mush… I should probably address that. I was fed better in the unclaimed village. Babes are fed better. I would have rather eaten the bowls it was served in.” Anthony didn’t presume to sit down or to embrace Loki. He just leaned on the back of his chair as if he couldn’t stand. “You should be nice to me anyway. I faced that great green beast and lived to tell about it. Evidently that makes me protected and blessed by the stars. My value went way up over this.”

He did pause a moment to refill Loki’s cup without being asked. Honestly, Steven was falling down on the job. He shouldn’t have left Loki while he was still nibbling. This cup should never have fallen passed half full. He didn’t know that the blond was taking his time now to give Anthony some privacy with their master. They might come later.

“But anyway, I am up and healed and through with porridge and ready to figure out how that flying armor worked.” If someone else cracked it open without him, he was going to be really annoyed. “Unless you want to keep eating and sitting around and marking off pages in your logs? That sounds fun too. Except not really.”

"The armour you claimed has been stored in the east block of weapon huts, you may take your tools and spend the rest of the day there as reward for your bravery and obedience during the culling."

Loki pulled himself to his feet in one smooth and sinuous motion, pausing ever so briefly to brush a kiss to the side of Anthony's head. A rare and genuine gesture. He had feared to lose his most precious possession, the relief of not having that come to pass was intense.

"But come sundown, you must ready yourself, for we will be taking a skiff to the training grounds to help with weeding out unsuitable slaves, beginning training of the children, and choosing those for breeding."

He gestured for Anthony to go to his little chamber where the new tools awaited him, and dismissed him with a nod.

Few things were more precious to him than that tiny kiss to his temple and Anthony went with the widest grin he’d ever given to a room he barely used and now had to share with Steven only to make a sort of strangled whooping noise once he saw his gift. “Thank you,” he cried, once more running head first into Steven as he returned and headed straight through the halls to the place where his interest lay. Dwarven worked tools would be put to very good use as he crouched over his find and slowly began to pry apart the seams. To discover that there was a person inside, if arms and legs were any indication, left him in more of a rush to remove the armor.

The occupant looked familiar in an eerie way that Anthony couldn’t put his finger on. He was old, perhaps Bruce’s age, and wore a soft shirt, dark thick pants and boots made from unnatural materials that Anthony didn’t like. He had a little gray to his hair and wore his facial hair strangely. Could he be a chieftain? A ruler? Hair in Aesir society often indicated rank.

The man was breathing but unconscious, so Anthony sat back on his heels before he wound up a smack to the other’s face. The crack was hard (he should have pulled the punch a little, whoops) and blood hit his knuckles as the other woke and yelled. It was a familiar voice…his own. Anthony scrambled back, yelling too. “What the hell?!”

“This is Asgard,” Anthony shouted back. Not Hel. “You’re alive!”

It was only after the shock wore off that Anthony realized he was looking at his double just as they had met Steven’s in battle. He called for Loki at once.

Slaves were not allowed to keep themselves anything but clean shaven with short hair for this very reason, though some stubble could be allowed for it was more the length and style of the hair itself that spoke of status. It was why Loki now bore three extra braids in his hair proudly after that campaign, something he wished greatly to show his mother and father when they returned.

He was a true son of Asgard, none could deny that now.

The summons from Anthony was unusual, but he understood his slave well enough to know that he would not simply call for no reason, so he slipped down to the weapon's room and looked down on the strange older version of his possession with interest.

"Silence," he commanded, clearly expecting to be obeyed, though the words of the Midgardian language felt as mush in his mouth. So uncultured and harsh. "You are not where you belong, have you slumbered within this armour the whole time?"

Floundering around in an attempt to sit up, which was impossible considering that he was still locked inside the upper and lower torso segments of his armor, Tony at least managed to kick himself across the floor and konked his head on the wall. Given his concussion, he really wasn’t trying to injure his head further but sometimes that couldn’t be helped. “Damn it… Of course I was sleeping. I need my beauty rest. You should try it.” His younger self pressed his lips together to keep from laughing, which did earn him a grin from Tony, and an added: “It would really do wonders for your skin.”

Anthony glanced at Loki, not sure how to read the prince, and not sure if he should step in here since he wasn’t really needed to defend anyone’s honor against a really pathetic version of himself. Then again, he felt a real need to do it anyway, because he didn’t want to be duplicated. He was one of a kind, he was Loki’s, and another version of himself could really step up and take his place easily enough. Even if he was really old.

“But hey, if I’m not where I belong, how about you direct me to the nearest exist and some batteries and I’ll be out of your crazily pointed hair. Cool?”

Loki was not expecting respect, for this was an unbroken Midgardian, but it was still disgusting. Much like those who kept dogs and did not bother to break them into obedience where both they and their owners could be happy, a free and untrained mortal was an offence and something pitiable.

"We shall take you to the training village when we depart come sunset."

He did not think that this Anthony could be trained. His own was wilful enough even having been brought up as a slave, this one would never work. But he could be used as breeding stock, stimulated and forced to mate with women to produce offspring with intelligent genetics.

"Anthony, fetch some manacles and then extract him from his armour. A poor design that cannot be lifted without its power source."

“H-Hey! It’s not a poor design! Whatever you hit me with locked the joints together.” Evidently, this man was more worried about how his armor was treated, or his own genius, as opposed to where he was suppose to be taken. It didn’t bother him. Training Center sounded a whole lot like Boarding School and that didn’t work out for anyone. Besides, the moment he was out of his armor, he intended to overpower this kid version of himself and escape.

But that didn’t happen. When and Anthony were left alone for the latter to work on getting a chisel between the joints, ignoring his attempt at flattery and at taunting, he ended up laying as still as possible in case that chisel slipped and, after the breastplate was removed from his chest, he sprung into action. Unfortunately, all of his weight thrown up against the younger man did exactly nothing. Anthony reached for his older self and, with one hand, pinned him onto his back.

That was startling. And worrisome. And now his shoulder was smarting. “Okay, so you’ve been eating your Wheaties,” Tony muttered.

“Apples actually,” Anthony replied with a smirk. “Let me see your arms? I have some jewelry you might like.”

“You’re such a smart ass. I’m so proud of myself,” Tony said, and offered his hands. Now, evidently, was not the time for escape. But it would come. “Be careful with the Mark Seven. It’s still just a prototype.”

“You’ve named it Mark Seven? You have six other Marks?”

“Err. Had. I’m hard on my stuff.”

Anthony’s smile widened. “Me too. Now come on. Let’s jingle jangle you back to the hold.”

At sunset, Thor once again came out to bid the skiff farewell. “The moment Odin returns, I will be by your side,” Thor said, making sure that Loki understood. “Do not have too much fun without me.”

Loki clasped his brother by the forearms warmly and bade him to return the moment he was no longer on the throne, and to pass on news of his success to both their parents. He wanted to make them proud, he wanted to know that they saw him as a true son of Asgard once more after the failings of the past year or so.

After that, the skiff left quickly.

Steven, unable to resist the lure of the slave he knew waited below, made sure that Anthony could handle serving Loki by himself so that he could have some free time. Dressed in soft black and green, and no longer ashamed to be wearing it, he slipped down to the hold. Though Prince Loki would never hold his heart as Prince Thor did, he understood now the lessons he had been brought into his service to learn and he respected both those, and how his second prince had conducted himself during the raids.

He held the small tray of bread and water that the older Anthony would be given, holding it out once he had stepped into the small room he had been housed in for the trip.

"This is bizarre," he said, speaking the Aesir tongue for he had not quite remembered that these slaves wouldn't know it yet. "Look at you, so old, so untamed. It's like seeing a wild version of my brother."

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oops fell asleep on my sofa for a bit there haha

Whoopps! Good nap?

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