fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

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."

Fourteen hours after waking in the shed (or whatever it was), Tony had had ample opportunity to learn a little bit of the language being spoken to him. He’d picked up Mandarin completely in a week and this language was somewhat similar to Scandinavian languages in that the vocabulary was similar enough that anyone who knew one language could more or less understand what another was saying. It helped that Tony had an affinity for language too, seeing it very much like equations and mathematical formulas. His brain just clicked and therefore, this short haired version of his dad’s old science experiment was speaking less nonsense and more like a sister language to know Tony could follow along with him.

“I’m gluten free,” Tony replied, ignoring the offered bread and since he didn’t know the word for gluten in Space Viking, he just said the English. “Fiber not good for feet.” He’d meant body but the guard had been talking about how much his feet ached and Tony just assumed. “Not old. Very attractive— I am a carefree horse and can still have a mellow movement.” What was the word for dance? He tried it in Norwegian but it would translate to Steven as something that sounded a lot like the Asgardian word for toilet. Tony shook his head and made a little attempt at dancing, some strange shoulder and hip movement, before he rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t get it anyway,” he said in English. “Take me to your leader?” He wasn’t too fond of this new language but he tried again. “Idiot,” he said, pointing at Steven, before he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.

And that wasn’t easy, since he was manacled.

That gesture, though, in the darkness, focused the shine or glow of something on or under his garment.

This man was an idiot.

Much of what he said was accented strangely and wholly incorrect. Though Steven lacked Anthony's affinity for languages, he had been grounded in All-Speak in order to work so closely with Prince Thor, he had simply forgotten that these mortals would need him to use it. He switched at once, so that he could be properly understood.

"We're not taking you to a leader, you're going to the training village to be bred for future stock, and you're lucky to have survived for that. It's probably only because you look so similar to Anthony."

Steven reached forwards as he spoke to tug at the slave's shirt, ripping it easily to see what created such a glow beneath.

“Woah! Woah, hey, I know I’m irresistible, Peach Fuzz, but hands off!” Well, too late for that one. He’d never been so close to Steve Rogers before and he never wanted to be this close either. He smelled a little bit like fruit and sweat, which was weird and Tony suddenly never wanted to see a strawberry or a melon again in his life. The sudden rip of his shirt was equally horrible, and his hands, shackled, were thrown up as a way to keep this beast of a man at a distance. “If you think this counts as dinner first, you’re sorely mistaken.”

At least he could shout indignantly in English. That made him feel better. Having his back against the wall, literally, did not.

Of course, Tony knew that it was the reactor that Rogers was aiming for, but considering that he couldn’t make another one out of dirt and straw and spit, and he needed it to, you know, live and all, he was protective over the disc of light buried in his chest. “I always took you as a gentleman but I guess even the good boys with the perfect teeth and hair have deep, dark secrets. I bet you’re a boots on kind of guy? Know what? Don’t care. Bad touch! I don't want to be a breeding ground for your alien ass babies!"

This was awkward. Moreso because Tony couldn’t really defend himself like this….and because of what he’d heard on Steve’s radio and now, in person, of what his fate was going to be.

At least Steven had many years with his Anthony to become used to this sort of rapid-fire speaking, it seemed they were more similar than he might have imagined. But where his Anthony had learned wisdom through boundaries, and found happiness in the love of his master; this one was unfettered and worse for it.

"Surely you know that mortals do not produce babies from their anus," he said, mildly confused. "We are not like the Jotnar who are intersex, we must produce with a woman to have offspring. You will be set to breed with females that have been captured, though if you still have energy and desire then you may copulate with the other men if you wish."

Steven didn't want to take him. He viewed Anthony like a brother, to sleep with even his version would be strange. There were lines that even Aesir did not cross.

"What is that in your chest?"

Mouth open and then closed, Tony wasn’t even sure what to say. He sort of wanted to punch Steve Rogers in the face, but if he was anything like the other version of himself, he was going to be impossible to damage. He’d probably punch back and a slap had been enough to leave the side of his face bruised. He didn’t want to know what this muscle bound freak could do to him. “I think I’ll keep Legal from having to get me out of any more paternity tests,” he muttered, since he was pretty sure that there was no way he could be made to do the things he didn’t really want, and secure in that knowledge, he didn’t react in any more violence.

Instead, he cupped a hand over the reactor in his chest and the dim light caused half moons to fleck in the deep amber of his gaze. His scowl darkened.

“It’s nothing and no you can’t have it.” All he needed was to have it yanked out. How could he escape and rescue everyone that needed rescuing and destroy everyone that needed destroying if he was dead? He couldn’t. “It keeps my alive. I have a bad heart. Don’t touch it or your whole dream of having lots of little Tonys running around will be ruined.”

This one's name was Tony? What a strange name, Midgardian naming must have evolved quite a long way. Slaves were encouraged to be named by their Midgardian roots, and even taught a little about their realm, to remind them that they had a place and purpose within Yggdrasil. But he had not heard the name Tony before.

"Your heart is defective and requires a machine to run it? Why haven't your healers fixed it yet?"

Surely, if he had made it this far alive, then it must be treatable. Something like that would either be healed, or it would be bad enough for the patient to die. This was just barbaric.

"Take your hand away and allow me to see, I shall not remove it if you speak the truth. You look too like someone I think of as a brother to want to hurt you."

"You don't want to hurt me. Really." This was the second time that Steve referred to him as looking like someone he saw as a brother. That didn’t sit right with Tony, but he didn’t say anything snarky about it since, again, he wanted to survive this little ordeal and then feed this guy his repulsor. That also required letting him touch the reactor. “We don’t have healers. We have doctors. There’s metal lodged in my heart and this keeps those fragments from killing me. Pretty sure you’d die from a few good pieces of metal in your heart too.” Or so he hoped. He really, really hoped.

Tony averted his eyes as the metal was brushed at and manipulated. If Steve decided to crack it open, to turn it, to tug at it-- Well, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do other than yell a lot, but you’d better believe that there would be quite a bit of that.

His voice lowered. “I know you’re brainwashed, Rogers, but this is pretty much the worst thing that one person can do to another. So I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt here, but you’re pretty damned disgusting to me right now. So step back and don’t touch me,” he growled in the blond’s ear as he leaned in close to inspect the circle of light. Tony held his breath in annoyance and a little bit of fear.

All of those who had been chosen to come to the training grounds and deal with the newest crop of slaves had been taught what to expect from this first generation. They had been told that there would be resistance, tears, violence, recriminations-- but it was one thing to know objectively that it would happen, and another to see such naked hatred directed towards him.

He sat back on his heels, brow furrowed in that very earnest concern that all Steves shared, so sincere.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm not even touching you much, and I have no interest in forcing you to my furs. What is it that I've done to you that's so much the worst? We're taking you to a life of purpose, Ant-- Tony, we're saving you."

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oops fell asleep on my sofa for a bit there haha

Whoopps! Good nap?

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