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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“There is nothing weak about us,” Anthony said, defiant to this imposter. “You have no right to make claim on us. We are not for sale and have been rightfully and lawfully owned from the beginning of the memory of our species.” He couldn’t back down on this. He wouldn’t. He had to get back to Loki, he had to get the men and women standing with him back. And he was willing to fight for it. A good fight would lead him to Valhalla—

But wait. This was Vanaheim. He could tell from the smell of it, from the look of it. The Free Markets were just over the hill. If this was Vanaheim, though, it could not be the Vanaheim Loki’s mother hailed from.

And that meant that if he were to go to Valhalla here, the prince would never find him again.

Anthony turned to the language of the Aesir rather than the All-Speak he had grown used to over the year dealing with humans that did not understand anything else. He addressed this false Loki directly.

“It is my right and rank to be returned. You will not keep me here. The last who tried to keep me from my master was torn limb from limb.” Sorry, Bruce. “I would not have that happen again.”

Bruce knew that now was not the time to protest what he had done, for Anthony did not speak untruthfully, though it was unpleasant to hear. The only indication of this was a slight shuffle from foot to foot, but otherwise he kept his composure pretty adequately through the exchange.

Aesir was not a language that Loki spoke often, though she was of course fluent in it, and so her voice had a slight accent that marked her as from Jotunheim. A twang to some of the words, a roundness to the syllables that shouldn't be there if she had been native of Asgard her whole life.

"I cannot allow you to return," she replied, using All-Speak so that the mortals were not excluded from the conversation. "You know of our location and may bring your masters down upon us, which would cause a war that we ill want."

“He will find me!” Anthony all but shouted, and it spoke to his youth. Though he was nearly a century old, his first centennial but two years away, the apples he ate did more than just prolong his life. It prolonged everything about him, including his mental development. He’d seen and he’d experienced a lot, but he hadn’t entirely grown from those experiences. It would take a lot longer for any of that to happen. The other slaves were silent, but they judged him.

He should not believe himself so important and irreplaceable. But he did. He had to. His whole being had been tied into Loki and without his prince, he felt empty.

“No matter where I am, he’ll come for me. You will be destroyed. Asgard is stronger than all of your might combined. All kneel to her throne. If you do not send us back immediately, you will be destroyed.”

The false Steven, the one with longer hair, without the scar over his eye, looked sad but understanding. “It’s not possible, son. Stand down and we’ll get you something to eat and something to wear.”

Anthony took a step back against Bruce, jaw set. “Leave us to die. We would rather that than be corrupted by you.”

Bruce, however, set a hand on Anthony's shoulder in comfort and spoke in much softer and more agreeable terms to the other Steven that he had tried to experiment on for some time.

"We would be glad of some food and clothing, thank you."

It was wisdom to know when to bow to the enemy, Odin All-Father had taught him that. Be patient and find the time to strike, never giving in but not resisting in fruitless ways that had no honour or purpose. They would be lucky to survive the night, for the chattel did not understand their purpose in life and had seen what was done to them as torture, and they were the ones who perpetuated that.

Loki just looked at the other Tony as if he were insane, a curiosity that she wanted to take apart and figure out. "Strange to see such loyalty to a creature such as what I must be, traitor to my blood and home."

"Traitor--". But Bruce squeezed his arm lightly and Anthony gave ho the fight. He'd never been taught this lesson. He never bowed to any save for Loki. Loki alone was his master and that had gotten him into trouble before, sure, but everyone knew his colors and no one dared cross that.

Until now. And now, poor Anthony was forever out of his element. His blood boiled as Steven's other self guided them to a small building for their safety. And he knew what that meant. They would be locked inside. Anthony forced himself to toughen up, especially when he saw how nice of an accommodation that they were given.

Steve did throw the bolt across the door and asked for two Vanir to stand watch. They needed to see to the rescued people first. The half dozen initial slaves could rest and eat and change inside the mansion while they tended to those in need first.

All were sufferers of rape and torment. All needed more kindness then the scant few.

Tony, walking with a cane and with a limp that Banner assured him would go away, found Loki in the crowd and smirked down at her. "So I just heard from Cap that you accidentally scooped up and met the other me. What do you think?"

Loki watched the scant few slaves taken away with interest, but she made no move to follow them. It would do none of them any good to get too attached to those who would doubtlessly be executed once they could be tried for their crimes. It would just be a drawn out process to decide which peoples were the ones to be allowed justice, though she felt it should go to the Midgardians.

"What has been done to them is not of seidr or unnatural means, they do not feel corrupted, but I cannot understand what would make any man or woman embrace their own slavery."

She had read about and seen accounts of slaves elsewhere, of course, and they were usually ecstatic with liberation when it came.

"I certainly prefer you."

"It's all cultural," Tony said, one hand in his pocket and the other on his cane. He didn't look at the building where their prisoners were kept. He didn't want to think too much about them because he really, really felt like going in there and killing the other Banner. He didn't know what that made him, but he couldn't forgive them. "They were born into it for hundreds, probably thousands of years. It's all they know."

And evidently they weren't treated too badly either because there were no uprisings. Tony didn't know. Or care.

"Plans for tonight? I have to keep occupied or I'm going to kill them before they go on trial."

Seeing Tony with this cane and limp made her angry at herself that she had not yet thought to contact Asgard and request some of their famous healing skills. The Jotnar did not have that sort of magic, but Asgardian women were famous for their salves and lotions which could heal all but the most grievous of wounds.

"I am at your disposal, though I fear bed sport may be too much for your healing body to handle currently."

She didn't want to be the cause of his death, after all.

"Perhaps we should take a trip elsewhere, then temptation will not hook you."

"To put your little mind at ease, I'm fine," Tony said. Though he did miss the sex, he wasn't going to push for it. Just having Loki around was good for the moment. That might eventually change but for now it was all right. He'd been in a lot of pain over the last few weeks, anyway, and with Barnes knowing his secret, he did his best not to be too indisposed with Loki.

Shame. Once this was all done, Loki would be headed home. And then to Asgard. It wasn't the first time he lost a friend though. He'd get over it.

"But Cap did tell me about the Free Markets. And the library? I wouldn't say no to a little bit of snooping." He didn't have the money he used to but that didn't mean he couldn't browse. Oddly enough, he didn't miss being rich. There was nothing left in the world to buy anyway. He had food and shelter and that was about all he could hope for right now. "You'll just have to put up with me acting like an old man."

Loki, however, was rich. Not in the way that Asgard held wealth, but she was still a princess and Jotunheim had many things that were valued as trade items. If Tony saw something that he wanted at the Free Market, she would be sure to buy it for him, he could consider it a down-payment for his wage.

"Then we shall visit the Free Market, none can have their mind wander there for there is always something to arrest the senses. If the walk becomes too much for you, I will carry you, there is no shame in being borne by a companion as close as I."

She offered her hand to him, for he would need to take it to be teleported.

"Tell me, will you miss your brethren in the future?"

"Miss them? I'm not really one of them." He was not used to being teleported. It still left his stomach weak, but he held himself together this time. The market was filled with oddities and wonders, nothing like what one might expect from a mideval fantasy at all actually. The buildings were soaring with an architectural somewhat Asian and somewhat Danish and all together its own. Sweeping banners advertised wares and people in all manners of dress flounced around as if on the currents from one spot to another.

He'd never seen anything like this. Not on Earth. Not on that training moon or the jungles of that pit stop home where many had died.

Amber eyes took it all in, swooped over it all as the smells and sounds of enticing merchant stalls drew his attention.

"When you're gone, I'll turn into one of those eccentric old men. The bitter, long bearded kind that yell at the kids on his lawn. But who knows. Maybe this armor will get me some sort of contract. I used to do a lot of work for governments."

Loki had been coming to the Free Markets since she was so young that her mother had to carry her in a sling, back when her shapeshifting had been much more instinctive and more dangerous. Jotnar were welcome, all were welcome, but they were not often seen for the climate on Vanaheim was not to their liking. They did not maintain a permanent stall as many did.

So Loki, in her natural blue for she felt it disrespectful to come as other than what she was to a place like this, turned more heads than a mortal did. She gave him a funny look as if he had said something ridiculous.

"Tell me, Tony Stark, why would I be gone before you? I will live many thousands of years longer than you."

Jotnar were even longer lived than Aesir, they lived the longest of the races and could match a mountain for age sometimes.

“When you go to Asgard,” Tony corrected, leaning on his cane to peer down at something that looked a little bit like a necklace made out of living fire. It was sort of incredible, holographic almost. He didn’t try to touch it (who knew how many other people touched it!) but he couldn’t feel any heat from it at all. He wanted to know how it worked, but there were other, more important things to do. Surely.

A glance over his shoulder caught Loki peering at him as if he was out of his mind.

“You’re going to have some important things to do. Don’t think you’ll get time off to visit the poor refugee humans. There’s going to be a pretty long honeymoon phase for you and your prince.”

"I had thought we had already discussed this," she rejoined, though perhaps she was misremembering and had only thought to discuss this with him but not actually gone through with it. "I had hoped you would join me in a retainer capacity. It is not uncommon for royalty to have companions who's food and board is paid for simply out of friendship."

She would not use him as a servant, merely let him build and invent within the palace walls of Asgard and not lose one of the only friends she had ever made that was on her level intellectually.

"If you would rather stay with your people, I understand. But Asgard will require an emissary should deals be struck for vassalage."

Just two weeks before, Bruce had confessed to him that he was his only friend, but ever selfish, Tony found himself nodding along to the plan. “Uh..yeah. I’ll go with you. Dumb question.” He wanted to have his old life back, away from the hardships of life where he could do anything he wanted no matter what he wanted. He’d gladly go with Loki. They’d have a lot of fun together until Tony was too old to do anything fun and then he’d go back to being that crotchety old man.

There was a half-smile towards the girl and a decided hop in his step despite the cane as they meandered down wide lanes between stalls. Nothing really caught his eye until they approached the massive, gleaming building of the library.

“You and I need to sit down and discuss a language exchange. I want to be able to understand what I’m reading,” he said, frowning at the challenge these steps were going to be.

Damned leg.

At least his mind was completely off of those being housed for trial. Steve’s wasn’t allowed to be, though he busied himself trying to get everyone else left into some sort of care program that the Vanaheim had helped them to set up.

Thousands of people needed medical care. He wasn't prepared for that. Luckily, their benefactors were.

Vanaheim was a realm of scholars and sorcerers, their physical might was less important to them than their mental might. They had prepared for a large number of wounded, setting aside huge low buildings with lots of light and volunteers from the healing centres to come and tend to those who needed it.

It may not be the population of an entire planet, but there were hundreds of thousands of mortals now, more than enough to begin to repopulate when they found a new place, though most of them were traumatised in some way. Strangely, they reacted the best to Bucky of all the people come to save them, perhaps sensing in a way that he knew something of what it was like to go through what they had, or perhaps just because he had never had an Asgardian double and so felt more trustworthy.

To talk with them and get them sorted was a harrowing task that took well into the night, just to find beds for everyone and assure them time and again that they were rescued and these Asgardians and Vanaheim residents were not trying to enslave them. Of course, they weren't all good people, and hidden like a snake in the grass was someone terrified who saw an opportunity to protect herself with a living weapon. A few desperate and muttered Russian words, and a blank eyed Bucky would be what returned to Steve in the early hours of the morning.

Moving everyone from that little planet that they had colonized back in the first alternate universe that they had visited had been stressful and they had only been two thousand strong. Being here with a hundred thousand was mind boggling, let along knowing that the US alone had several million people back when their world had countries. He’d moved into this tiny room with Bucky just a few days before. They all were in tight quarters to allow the new comers as much room as possible, all in long buildings in the planes of Vanaheim. Steve had wondered how sound magical buildings were but he couldn’t hear his neighbors and they seemed sturdy enough.

He was stretched out on the small bed that took up half of the tiny apartment, eyes closed though he had a digital pad and was trying to sort through the names of those that had given them and cross referencing them with friends and family. It was starting to hurt his head, the task was frustrating even to someone with optimal patience.

Which was why he wasn’t paying much attention to Bucky when he came in, not until he simply stood there instead of crawling into bed with him.

“Buck?”

Bucky looked over at Steve without passion, without real understanding of who he was. He had been told to come here and 'act normally' by his handler, but he had no idea what was normal for this situation. The Soldier programming could not survive memories like Bucky's with Steve, and so they were suppressed right now, hidden underneath the orders and the trigger words that bound him like chains.

Steve might notice that Bucky had a smear of blood on his right knuckle, a leftover from his first orders which he had already completed before returning here. He didn't respond, merely stared at Steve as though at a stranger.

Steve was highly perceptive and he knew Bucky, his Bucky, better than anyone. He also knew the Soldier, having spent months staring at him and talking to him. He schooled his face to a cool neutral, though it had already clicked that he was dealing with the Soldier. He did not want to implant himself as the Handler, he needed to keep himself separate from that, and he didn’t want to implant himself as any fantasy member of this little drama he was going to have to play out here.

So he rose from bed, tilted his head in Bucky’s direction, and nodded at him to follow him into the hall.

“I’m glad you finaly showed up,” he said, as if this was a scheduled meeting. There was HYDRA in their midst but he needed to neutralize Bucky first before he found them. And that would require getting him someplace that he could be restrained until he fought off the programming.

He hadn’t been wiped, after all. He was triggered, but that would pass. Or so he hoped.

“I need all the help you’ve got making sure our silo is upkept. You said you could check the upper lofts? Just call down to me what you see up there,” Steve said, hanging out just inside the door of one of the grain silos that the Vanir had provided for them.

His every intention was to lock Bucky inside. It would hold. And then he’d have some work to do.

Normal was obeying orders.

Even if he didn't recognise this particular handler, or operative of HYDRA, he still knew that following orders was his purpose for existing and so he didn't argue when he was told to go to the grain silo and check the upper lots. He just nodded and murmured an agreement, before following Steve to the right silo and stepping inside.

It would be easy to trap him in there and the Soldier wouldn't even try and escape for at least an hour, for he trusted that he was doing his duty by checking on all the upper lofts and cataloguing what was up there. More than enough time for Steve to start work on whatever he thought he needed to do.

It wouldn't be long after locking Bucky in the silo that he would come across Bruce looking slightly harried. "Steve, do you have a moment? In private? It's urgent."

“HYDRA, I know, Doctor Banner,” Steve said, looking grim. “But we don’t have any good way of detecting who it is. Or who they are,” he said, falling into step beside Bruce before it dawned on him that there was something else.

Something somehow worse than having his husband triggered by operatives who were just trying to figure out how to survive in the new world order that Asgard forced upon them. The blond stopped in his tracks, a thoughtful look on his face when Bruce was left to blink at him about the revelation.

“There’s not a lot of private left, but come back to my quarters. The walls are thick,” Steve said, changing course again and walking just a little too fast for most people to keep up with him. They just were working on borrowed time.

As always, these days.

HYDRA would make some sort of sense, though it made his stomach sink. He had been hoping for something less insidious than an evil shadowy organisation and something more mundane, like traumatised people taking their anger out in ill-advised but ultimately understandable reasons.

He looked old and sort of tired as he followed Steve back to the tiny cramped quarters he called home for now, glancing about to see if his husband were anywhere about. Not that he didn't trust Bucky, but he would prefer to keep this as minimised as possible until they figured out what to do with it.

"Of the fifteen 'slaves' that were detained, seven of them have been killed. All of the ones housed in B block have been slaughtered, by the looks of it with some kind of blade. Nobody heard or saw anything, we were only alerted when someone took them some food and found the bodies. The detainees in A block are unharmed and know nothing of the situation."

This was a problem. Vigilante justice was not something that they could allow to continue, or even start. This was a different situation, not like the Polish or French collaborators during the war. They needed to speak with them and then set up rules for what to do with the people that facilitated their capture and the rape of their people.

Steve rubbed a hand down his face. "How many people know? The Council?" It seemed that only a few people knew and that was something to be thankful about. People felt very strongly about this issue after all. And Steve couldn't even blame them for it. "Okay. All right. I think I know what might have happened. Buck's been triggered. I have a feeling whoever did it might have used him as a weapon, or might be behind what happened. He was never known to use a knife when he could use his hands. We need to double the guards on the rest and-- Doctor. The dead. Was one of them your double?"

Did Bruce even know he had one here? Surely Tony told him about his double since they'd been rescued at least.

If Bucky had been triggered to become the Winter Soldier, then Bruce would bet good money that he was behind the murders there. Not directly, someone else was aiming him as a weapon, but it would be his hands that held the knife. Why he used a blade wasn't important right now, or he didn't think it was, just containing the situation.

He shook his head, expression grave.

"No, and that's probably a good thing because some small conversation with him reveals that he also has a state which makes him strong and fairly invulnerable, if not quite to the level of the Hulk, we don't need that unleashing on the village. Of the seven casualties, three were men who had identified themselves as kitchen workers, and the other four were women who identified as warriors."

Poor Anthony when he did eventually find out. He had been responsible for those taken, as the highest ranking slave, and now almost half of them were slaughtered in ignoble fashion.

Edited 2017-08-22 19:58 (UTC)

"It seems reasonable to expect something like that. Damn it," Steve muttered, wetting his lips. "Where's Tony?" He still didn't believe that Bucky had been tasked to slaughter the slaves. He would have completed the job and killed them all. And most of the human's hadn't even realized that a few of the slaves had come back with them. There had been too many and people all looked like people. It was only Loki's ability to know who was from what world that made a different at all.

Steve was beside himself.

"Buck will be all right where he is. I'll ask one of the sorcerers to keep the building secure. Their magic should hold him. And if not-- I'll be ready. If you can find Tony-- Proncess Loki is usually with him. We might need her help here."

Being in charge was miserable. So miserable.

Especially when Steve was all alone again.

"We need to keep all of this as secret as possible, Doctor. I don't want to hurt our own people for lashing out."

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