fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

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."

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Loki had to have been bored too for him to react this way. He was always fairly lenient, in private, especially after a bedding. But not tonight. Anthony huffed a little. He never expected much from Loki, but he'd been hoping to sleep in his arms. Not tonight evidently. He sat up, rubbed a hang through his hair to his aching scalp, and shook his head.

"Do you need anything before I go?" he asked, pulling on his tunic and then his trousers and boots. He would probably try to find Bruce. Or Steven. Or someone he could talk to. Loki was no help in that department tonight.

And he was not risking having to clean those stables. That was a warrior's task.

And now his slave was sulking. Loki rolled his eyes, but he did not forbid Anthony from flouncing away, he would do better getting over his little temper tantrum and then returning so that they may enjoy their last few days at leisure rather than at odds with a fractious slave who would need to be disciplined.

It would be Steven that Anthony found first.

He longed to be back on Asgard, gifted once again to his rightful owner now that this year was over, but he had been one of those breeding new slaves and so he could not leave until all the babes had gone. He would be found eating a hunk of meat and bread disconsolately outside the main sleeping barracks.

Loki didn't understand what it was like to be a slave without a purpose. The day to day routines of Asgard might bore some, but Anthony liked it. He enjoyed warming his master's furs too, but that happened on Asgard as regularly as it did here. On Asgard there was more privacy too. And always something new to be assigned to. This week, he knew, would be longer than even the last.

So seeing Steven look as miserable as he felt was heartening. Anthony plopped down beside him, back to the wall, and legs stretched out in front of him.

"I'm over this moon," Anthony told Steven, scooting over to lean against him. They'd been friends since they were toddlers, Steven had been his only friend. And Anthony was grateful every day that they had remained capable of being friends once they had been chosen.

That said, he was happy that Steven would be back under Thor's care.

"One week until you're back in service. What do you plan to do first?"

Steven was always heartened to see Anthony, his was a face that was synonymous with comfort and friendship. When other slaves had shunned him for being dangerously opinionated when it came to protecting the weak, he had found a kindred spirit in Anthony who had been opinionated in whole other ways. He looked forward to them being friends throughout this life and then waiting together in Valhalla for their masters to join them in the next.

"Polish his armour," was the prompt and immediate reply. "When he doesn't have a personal slave, he either forgets it needs it or he sends it to the palace slaves who don't have experience. After a whole year, it's going to be an absolute wreck."

Though he was sort of complaining, it was with a beaming smile on his face. He knew that Anthony understood, if he were separated from Loki then he would pine after all the mundane jobs that must be done to ensure their princes lived good and comfortable lives.

"I know that it's an honour to be here, but I agree. I want to go home and smell Asgard's fields again."

Anthony had already experienced separation from his Prince. He'd been captured and abused by others. He'd been used in ways that had nearly broken him, sure that Loki would cast him out for it. Sometimes he still thought of those foreign hands on his body and he had dreams of Loki growing disgusted with him, but it never happened. He was allowed to live and love in service.

So when Steven came to join him... After the jealousy and fear of being removed again passed, at least, he could understand more than most what it felt like to be put back into the right groove.

"I'm going to dust the bookshelves and fetch a proper meal. I miss having real fish, not the salted and dried stuff we have here. Prince Loki has been subsisting on the diet of field hands. It's awful."

They grinned at each other and Anthony dropped his head to Steven's shoulder.

"How many children bear your mark?"

Anthony was unlucky that his prince enjoyed books so much, that much parchment and that many shelves built up dust very quickly and needed cleaning often, it was a time consuming task that he knew he wouldn't enjoy. But then he wasn't Anthony, who could devote his mind to invention while he did such tasks.

Steven puffed up with earned pride. It had been a truly grand day indeed when it had been declared that his descendants for generations would bear his mark as a brand on the sole of their left foot, a reminder of strong blood.

"Seventeen healthy babes, though there was one more that died for the mother refused sustenance all through the pregnancy. A truly selfish act to kill her child, which could have had a future, as well as herself. But that is still seventeen with my mark, twelve boys and five girls."

"All blond haired and blue eyed?" Steven's pride flushed Anthony with pride too. They were brothers, not bound by blood for blood among slaves mattered only in lineage and not in family structure, and so Steven's triumphs could be counted for Anthony too. "Did you meet their wet nurses?"

The female warrior slaves could only have a single child in the breeding season here, after all, and so would foster many of the children birthed by foreign mothers to be left upon this moon. And what a great honor that was to their masters who would have first pick of their litters before the rest were sent to the training villages for rearing once weened.

Anthony was glad he was not a woman, though. He didn't want Loki to have any other salves for quite awhile. Surely he could be enough?

Not that he could ever see Loki raising a slave child either--

And Anthony sure as Hel wouldn't be!

"Of course, I met each and every one and they were all women of honour and pleased to be caring for a marked babe."

Steven was diligent in everything he did, of course he would have found each wet nurse and made sure they knew that this baby was his progeny and that Prince Thor himself had allowed the marking of his descendants for many generations to come. He leaned back against the curved wall of the outbuilding and slung his arm loosely around Anthony in comfortable companionship.

"Tell me, were you not saddened that your master didn't allow you to be part of the breeding? He should have allowed you to have at least one child, it could have been raised to take your place when you pass on."

Surely Anthony would prefer that Loki's care be left in his bloodline, than pass onto a stranger?

"If he wants someone of my lineage, he can have one of the children that older version of me had. Nine all together, five girls and four boys. Bruce says he was identical to me, genetically, so it won't matter." But Anthony didn't want to think about it.

When he was gone would already be too late anyway. Loki would replace him when he grew too old, as soon as the apples stopped working.

At least he knew what he would look like about the time that happened.

"Maybe he'll have one of yours when he discards me. Any with dark hair and eyes?"

Steven couldn't understand why Anthony seemed so reluctant to breed himself. Surely those exploits when he had been captured by bandits had not put him off, for he clearly still enjoyed rolling in the furs with his prince. Having offspring to further serve the Aesir was a great honour, sometimes Anthony made no sense.

"I doubt he will ever discard you. When we are in our dotage, he will have gifted you quarters and a metalwork store of your own. He has never had a personal slave before, you cannot think he would throw you aside when you grow too old."

Some masters would do that, simply casting out any slaves old and tired to replace them with new ones, but he doubted either prince would do that.

"You cannot have one with my mark, all bear my hair and eyes."

"Would you really deny me one of yours? Or Loki if he wanted it? Doubtful," Anthony laughed. He was still too far from old age to worry about what would happen and he hoped to die protecting Loki so that he would be remembered long after he passed to Hel. Or Valhalla if he was so lucky. He'd be able to serve Loki there again one day. Like James would be doing for Thor. And Steven too.

"I guess it doesn't matter. If he wants one of yours, he'll probably take a grandchild or a great grandchild in a few thousand years. Or he'll start all over again at the training village. I don't know. If he wants me bred, he'll breed me. Maybe he's just being picky about my mate?"

But he didn't want anyone but Loki. And sometimes Bruce.

Even if Bruce wisely kept him at arm's length.

It wasn't worth trying to untangle the mess of reason and madness that made up prince Loki or Anthony, so Steven just shrugged and pulled his arm tighter around Anthony's shoulders to pull the smaller man almost onto his lap.

"Maybe he just fears they will be born with your mouth and not your mind," he teased, for that would be a terrible thing. Stupid and chaotic.

"I have been thinking that if Prince Thor will allow me, I'd like to take on training some at the village for one day a week, to show them that even if they reach their third knot then all is not lost. Would you like to come with me?"

Half in Steven's lap, Anthony twisted around to look up at the blond. "Are you serious? Odin's Beard, you're serious. Yes! If my prince will allow it, I'll go. I could teach practical skills-- I'll be terrible at it but I could try." He could make a difference. "As long as I'm not needed-- when we get back and you get permission then maybe your master can suggest it to mine."

Keeping Steven out of the palace sometimes would probably be a huge help in the relationship Thor had with him. No more public, romantic sexual escapades. Less temptation for them.

Anthony wanted Steven to prosper. Not fall into the same pattern again. His master couldn't afford to collect him again if he was turned out once more.

He reached for the back of Steven's neck to press his forehead to the other's.

"This makes up for that mouthy comment. Don't think I didn't hear it."

"You know how mouthy you are, don't pretend as if that's a surprise insult."

He snorted, it would be like saying that Steven didn't have a moral compass a mile wide, or like Bruce didn't need his peace and calm. It was just a part of Anthony and there was nothing wrong with that because he had learned to temper it when necessary and he still had his intelligence to more than make up for it.

Steven smiled as his forehead pressed to Anthony's, enjoying the closeness.

"I just remember how hopeless we felt as our third knot approached and we had nothing, if we can help others from feeling as if it's too late then surely that's worth doing. You could train them in metalworking, make them attractive to the guilds or even for sale to Alfheim."

Oh he laughed at that. Not at Steven's words but at the thought of helping to make slaves better. He and Steven had been trained rigorously, taught everything they thought would be needed, but the trainers were trained to train. They had never lived a life outside of the village. They didn't know. He and Steven could really help the kids in the village learn to make themselves more attractive. Not physically, most slaves were already attractive by virtue of breeding. A good slave needed more than aesthetics.

"You're earning your legacy," Anthony said, stealing a piece of that meat from Steven's hand. He chewed on it thoughtfully. "The new generation we're bringing back are lucky. Ask Bruce as well. He knows the palace better than anyone."

Steven was grateful for the trainers and overseers at the village, they taught him how to read and write, how to ride and skin a variety of animals, how to clean armour, how to fight, how to do menial housework-- but Anthony was right, they had no idea of life outside their little village.

"You should ask Bruce, he likes you better than me and you look like you might cry if you don't get something to do."

He grinned, feeling pretty content with life.

"We're so lucky to be the generation we are, we were born with purpose, how many can say that?"

"Is it that obvious?" Loki had been right to turn him out of bed to find something to do with himself. Obviously he needed it if Steven could discern that from a conversation. "All right then. If I don't see you until we are back in the palace, enjoy your last few nights of feasting. Go bed one of the other warrior slaves while you still can and make them feel special."

Anthony patted Steven on the head knowing that, like he was with Loki, he wanted nearly no one else but his master.

Anthony took a stroll through the stables where there was little more than weeping (such ignorant fools) and a few angry cat calls. He ignored them and meandered down to where their doubles had once been kept, hoping to find Bruce.

He wanted to run the training by him. And maybe get a few hugs. Bruce was always good for affection when Loki was refusing him.

Bruce had been given the option to return to Asgard already, but he had chosen to stay here and preside over the remaining Midgardians who would be left to fend for themselves. He had tried to tell them time and again that they would not be killed, that the Aesir were merciful and generous and they would have more than a lifetime of food left for them.

He had also begun to prepare the sterilisation serum, which would be left in the food when they abandoned the moon. It wouldn't sterilise them at once, but a month or so of eating it and they would not be able to have more children. It was just kinder, for any children brought into being on this moon would not survive or have a good life, and it ensured this pool of mortals did not continue.

Anthony would find him tinkering with some of the raw ingredients for the sterilisation mixture, but he looked up with a smile when the other slave approached him.

"Bored," Anthony said, perching in the end of a stool as Bruce did his work. "Really bored. Also Steven wants us to start spending time at the villages, to pass on our knowledge. Pretty sure Loki will let me. And now you're up to date on what's going on with me," Anthony grinned. No reason to beat around the bush. He rocked his leg up and down, watching Bruce do all of his amazing Bruce-things.

If anyone ought to be praised for their handling of the breeding stock, it was him. Bruce was compassionate and made sure everything ran smoothly. He was kind to those that didn't really deserve it and they were blessed with many young to replenish the bloodlines of their people on Asgard.

Tony was proud to know him too.

Which was why he pulled himself in close.

And hovered.

"Were you ever bred? For your berserking? I mean, that's an amazing trait. Better than blue eyes."

Bruce wasn't a fan of his berserking. A lifetime in the service of Aesir had let him see it as an asset as well as a burden, but it wasn't the great trait that Anthony seemed to think it was and so he shook his head at once.

"A berserk rage isn't a good thing. I will attack friend as well as foe, I can scarcely be contained, and I cannot always control when it will burst out of me. I am lucky that the All-Father did not slay me for this weakness in my blood that means that sometimes I have to be coddled and allowed greater freedoms to control it."

He would never have allowed himself to be bred.

"I took the sterility formula years ago, illegally, when I first began as a slave for the All-Father."

Anthony opened and shut his mouth. He stared at Bruce as if the man had three heads or was lucky to be alive, let alone privileged. "The All-Father must have loved you greatly," he said, quietly. "And still love you now." Anthony never pried. Bruce's business was mostly his own. "And you saved me. And others. You made all of this possible. You might not be able to bring a line forward and that's pretty awful to hear, because you're a fine slave and a better man."

Anthony surged forward to wrap his arms around Bruce, even if the other wasn't that interested. The younger slave so often got what he wanted that it was easier not to fight him on it.

Even if it lingered longer than it should, while he daydreamed of being sterile himself. But that would be unfair. Loki might well want his children to stay in his service.

Even if the All-Father still disliked having Anthony in Loki's care because of the prophecy neither knew a thing about.

"All right-- well how can I help? I don't want to muck the birthing stables."

"He does, I'm very fortunate. Never underestimate the love our masters can hold for us, I already see it in young Prince Loki, if cultured right it can last a lifetime. But it means you must be even more vigilant in how you conduct yourself, because you will have an influence over him that will be greater than you could ever imagine."

Bruce would his arms around Anthony in return, a comfort and a familiar sort of gesture. He was not touchy feely with a lot of people, but he had grown very fond of Anthony and did not mind cuddling him when he latched on.

"It would be stupid to ask you to help with the clean up anyway, it would be demeaning for one of the royal slaves to be seen ankle deep in placenta and blood." He grinned and pulled back a bit. "You can help me start lacing the food with the sterilisation formula, if you like?"

"Wow. Bruce. You know how to treat a guy," Anthony grinned, but went about helping to do as he was asked. The water and the mead would be easily laced but the food took some finesse and, as always, Anthony was a fantastically fast learner.

It would take the majority of the week to get it all finished but that was not what Anthony took away from that encounter with Bruce.

It was what he'd said.

Anthony already knew that Loki loved him. He'd seen it, felt it. But tempering the prince with his guidance seemed beyond his capabilities. Loki wasn't swayed by him... Was he?

For several days, Anthony stayed close to his master. He didn't complain, he just served him rigorously and then went to help Bruce. They stood together on the last day of their time on the moon together as much of the Asgardians left. Their shis disappeared into the darkness, taking Steven and many of the slave warriors with them, including the four dozen new adult slaves that had been deemed trainable or had come to respect their new way of life. That left Anthony, Bruce and a few other slaves behind to tend to Loki before they all packed up to take the last skiff home in the morning.

Anthony couldn't help but be pleased and he was in quite the good mood as he followed Loki back to his tent.

"I was speaking with Steven before he left and decided that I will tackle your bookshelves first when we return," he said, just chatting as he often did. There was almost no one here to see them and no other Asgardian at all to view whatever they did either. That was a freedom that Anthony was enjoying. "And then I'll fetch you new furs. The household slaves would change them but I don't trust their eye. Will it be the right season for the white furs? It's been so dark in the tent that a brightness might do us all some good."

Some masters did not like their slaves to have too many friends or fraternisations outside their work, they felt it detracted from their purpose. But there were good and bad slave owners, just as there were good and bad slaves, and Loki saw no harm in connections. A happy and healthy slave was much more likely to do their work with their whole heart, rather than one cowed and bullied into submission.

So he indulged Anthony's time spent with Bruce this week, and it seemed to do both of them good. He had fond memories of Bruce anyway, as one of his father's favoured slaves who had encouraged his desires in magic and book learning. Between them, they managed to lace all the food and drink to ensure that the mortals who remained would eventually become sterile.

On the last day, Loki had dressed himself in full ceremonial armour ready to be received back at Asgard and he had gifted Anthony with a new tunic in soft black with green trim so that he would look equally smart for their return. He smiled indulgently at the talk of mundane tasks.

"The white furs would be suitable, and I shall need you to prepare for a lengthy hunting trip. I have missed Asgard and I have been in one place too long, I plan to journey around our realm and visit remote villages and farmsteads. It has been too long since a royal representative showed them that even they were in our thoughts."

And it let him travel, it let him move. He had relished this triumph and duty, but he had also been constrained by it. He imagined that Anthony would also enjoy travelling the beautiful realm of Asgard.

"I may invite Thor, so you would have Steven to spend time with. But should you wish it, as a reward for good service, you may request Bruce to assist you on the road."

Bruce had taught him everything he ever needed to know about serving Loki, even if he didn't always follow those rules. He hadn't needed to, not when he and Loki had formed a bond fairly early on around the discipline and the mischief wrought together. Anthony arched an eyebrow at Loki's back anyway. "That's a good idea," Anthony mused. "Prince Thor travels with many slaves and an extra hand to help is appreciated." He knew better than to act overly excited about Bruce tagging along. Or to mention that he felt safer with Bruce there. The other slave had saved him, taught him, cared for him, and had a special place in Anthony's heart. "It's been decades since we headed to the northern farmlands," he continued, expressing interest in checking on how his irrigation system, put in place on their last journey, was holding up. It was a Prince Loki favored area for that reason alone and Anthony liked highlighting the areas that loved his master over Thor.

And he knew Loki loved it too.

He was in the middle of testing out potential itineraries on his master when Anthony felt his stomach sink. He moved forward to grasp as Loki's coat but his fingers slipped right through it. "Mast--"

Anthony faded before that fearfully pitched word escaped from his mouth. He, and every human on the training moon, had been scooped up by Jotnar and Vanir magic, dragged through reality and the void and deposited on Vanaheim. Anthony found himself standing slowly, gazing at the chattel, in his new black and green tunic, before throwing up on his boots.

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