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."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well, gentlemen, that's my cue. A pretty lady always wins out." He probably should have phrased that differently, considering that Bucky knew he'd slept with Loki, albeit in her older seeming form. He grunted as he stood, however, using the back of Banner's chair and then his cane for support. "Don't wait up for me."

He winked at Bruce specifically before hobbling off, more than willing to offer companionship to Loki so he didn't have to watch Steve stare obsessively at Bucky as if he might return to being a lifeless corpse.

"So, Persephone, what's Death like?"

That leg would need to be sorted out, he would not last as a companion to her on Asgard if he became truly lame, though she had none of the healing arts that many other sorcerers held as their chief talent. She would have to request assistance from another, but that would come in time.

"Helheim is no more horrible than Midgard, it is a place of contentment and family for many. I know that your mortal legends have brought such negative connotations to the word for Hel, but it is simply for those who did not die in glorious battle, not those who have committed wrongs or rights."

She led him to one of the little private rooms and waited until he had got sat down, before she draped herself over his lap carelessly.

"Though it may interest you as much as I, to learn that Hel herself is a daughter of mine in some other future."

Tony wound his arms around the girl and shifted her weight upwards so she didn't put so much pressure on his bad leg. His embrace was light, for she was a child at the moment, and no matter what Bucky thought of him, he wasn't interested in children. That didn't stop him from lightly thumbing over her back, though, likely enjoying the closeness as much as she probably needed to.

It had to be an ordeal. Even if the queen of the Realm that evidently housed them all when they died (what?!) was related to the girl he held.

"I don't think I can process that," Tony said truthfully. "I like being an atheist too much. It's comforting to think that this is it and no one is messing with our fates."

Despite of everything he had seen, he refused to believe in gods and demons and afterlives.

"What did you do? Pull the I'm your mom card?"

"Father, actually."

That didn't bother her so much; though she was female most of the time, she had not ruled out the possibility that she may father children in her future. It actually seemed odd to her sometimes to remember that most people were stuck in their one form, unable to shift and change at will.

"Whether you believe or not, you will travel to Helheim or Valhalla when you die, such is the nature of all of those bound to Yggdrasil's branches."

Her form began to change, to grow and develop into that of a woman more to Tony's tastes. She was running high on adrenaline and victory, a roll in the furs would be an excellent end to the day.

"Father?" A sorceress of many talents, Tony already understood her ability to shapeshift, but for some reason it didn't occur to him that she might also swap her gender, enough that she might actually be able to father children. That was changing the basics of who she was and he couldn't help but be curious.

"How does that work?" He absolutely preferred her this way when they were close, it made him feel less of a creeper. And she was so much softer with the extra curves too. He let his touches longer. "As a bird, you shrink-- but are you actually a bird then? Or is it just illusion?"

Because the implications were marvelous.

She could be anyone with the snap of a finger, not just look like them but actually be them. Banner would salivating right now to listen to this. The implications for medicine were insane.

"It is no illusion, I become what it is that I will, but the core of myself is always me. As I am now is truth, my breasts real, my uterus capable of bearing children. So too, if I would to mimic a cow, I would gain extra stomachs and udders, or if I were to be a fish then air would no longer be my ally for breathing."

It was hard to explain, even to those who also practised with seidr, for true shapeshifters were exceedingly rare. She knew of some, for her father had provided books and tutors once he realised what she was the only one that she knew of that lived now. The illusion and magic for fighting, that was much more common.

"Should I wish it, I could mother or father children in any form."

Which was probably where the legends for creatures like Sleipnir came from. "Why do you ask, are you wishing for kin of your own?"

"That ship has already sailed to Asgard." The thought bothered him. He'd never wanted a child, not even the half dozen people that might have had his kids over the years. He never requested a paternity test, he just had legal pay them out quietly with an NDA and note giving up all parental rights.

He'd never wanted any of that to come back at him.

But now he knew there were children out there. His children. He'd been told by a gleeful Bruce Banner doppelgänger about how well the pregnancies had all gone.

His hands moved up and over those very real breasts. He buried his thoughts of the rapes in the softness of her body.

Loki did not push him, she was beginning to see where the jagged scars in his mind were and not poke at them too much. She would have children one day, hopefully sons and daughters of Asgard's throne and perhaps others to bring her joy with people she cared for. But she did not need one now, and her first child should be with her future husband anyway.

She slid her arms around his neck and bent her head to catch his lips with hers. She would provide the comfort for him, and he could provide the closeness for her that she wished for after such a strenuous and odd sort of day.

"Then do not think on such things," she murmured, soft and warm. "There is only the joy of bedsport here, nothing more."

Tony did thoroughly enjoy his bedsport with Loki, and though his leg made many positions difficult, he was ceaseless in his attempts to please her. No one ever called his a selfish lover even if he was selfish in nearly every other way.

While one Tony was enjoying his version of Loki, another was starting to lose hope. It had been a full day. His Prince should have arrived well before now to get him. To get them all.

No one had been in to see them for a full day now. That worried Anthony. Were they going to starve them? That hardly seemed fair. They had all been really well taken care of.

It was only after slumping into the corner for a moment to get away from the states of his people that he overheard someone talking about deaths.

As careful as Steve and Bruce had been, leaks of what happened to the other captives had gotten out.

Anthony was not the only one starting to worry that they were going to be locked in here and starved, forgotten about in revenge for trying to give these other mortals meaning and purpose in their lives. Several of the lower ranking or younger slaves were sobbing by now, or even talking about trying to fight their way out and return to their masters.

Bruce came to sit beside Anthony, face grave.

"Have you heard the news? One of their people massacred the other captives without mercy or proper trial, like cattle for slaughter."

That was disgraceful, even those captured as criminals were given a proper execution so that their soul might find a better future.

“The prince was right,” Anthony said, a little too shell shocked to be anything but grim and frank. “That branch of the tree that we culled was poison. These people are poisonous. What if they’ve passed that trait on to their children?” He didn’t outright accuse Bruce of anything, he would never do that, but Bruce had given the go ahead to intermingle bloodlines. All of Steve’s children could be corrupted now. And that was even before he took into consideration how Loki might be faring with such a loss.

In the grand scheme of things, those losses meant absolutely nothing. There had been deaths of warriors upon the culling of the Realm to begin with. A few others had died during the initial confinement phases. To leave others behind was an acceptable loss. Loki would not be diminished in his praise.

A few household servants meant nothing and were easily replaced.

“We are dealing with barbarians here. If they come for us, we fight. We will go to Valhalla and we will serve the royal family there.”

Bruce was inclined to believe that Anthony said the truth here, these people were genuine poison. It was clearly a problem with their blood, for all of them were just as cruel as the others, and none saw the truth for what it was. He didn't fear for the intermingled blood, he trusted in their strengths to conquer the weaknesses innate in these mortals and allow the slaves to continue on correctly.

"We must find out how the others were slaughtered so that we know who to take vengeance upon, and then we have to escape. If it comes to Valhalla then we will go with pride, but I would rather return alive and serve for many years yet on this side of the veil."

He wasn't ready to die, he still bore the colours of Odin proudly when he could and he did not want to die an ignoble death on a foreign world.

"How do you want us to get that information, Bruce? The only talk I've heard is people mentioning it in passing. There are no names. And if we had names... How would we put that to faces?" There was a look of anger on Anthony's face, but not defeat. He'd just answered his own question.

Standing up, he strode through the main room that they had mostly gathered in rather than spread out (they were slaves and were used to being near each other. To be alone was to suffer). His fist pounded on the door that they occasionally heard people speaking through.

"I demand to speak with our captors!"

There was a startled sound outside and some low talk about going to find Captain Barnes.

Anthony didn't know who that was but he wasn't going to like the answer. He'd find out soon enough, especially when the two posted outside agreed to find their leader.

Bruce wasn't certain this was a good idea, Anthony was a brash and impulsive young man still. He may have lived longer than a normal mortal life, but he had matured only in the ways that mattered for serving Loki, he was not particularly seasoned when it came to dealing with enemies. But he was, technically, the higher ranking of the two of them and so he held his peace.

Captain Barnes did not want to leave his husband.

He hadn't felt the pain of Bucky's death since that day when he fell from the train, and he hoped never to feel it again. He wanted to go first, because he knew he wouldn't survive it again, he might not have survived it this time. Bucky was his world, his heart, what kept him fighting. But he had a duty, and his husband was finally asleep (in the closet as usual) so he had to leave his rooms.

Dressed in loose cargo pants and a sweatshirt, he appeared in the doorway to the house designated as a prison for now and stood with his arms crossed and his expression forbidding.

"You wanted to see me?"

He looked so much like Steven that Anthony had to suck in a breath. He should have been on the way to see him, to be reunited with him now that he was happily back in Thor's good graces. Would he fall into the same traps without him? Would he even notice that he was gone at first? Anthony wanted to punch this look alike in his perfect teeth.

But he did not. He just sneered.

"You killed half of us." It was a matter of fact though Barnes looked a little apprehensive. He hadn't been aware that the news was spreading. "Without trial. Without indication. You denied half of us the chance to dos gloriously and be reunited with our Masters. We demand recompense for your actions. You were never mistreated and none died in our care."

Though Steve was sorry about what had happened, his expression still hardened when this odd younger version of Tony, with his lilting accent, continued on with those ludicrous lies and demands.

"Never mistreated? Thousands were raped and imprisoned, stripped from their families and homes, and sold like cattle. You-- How dare you say that."

Steve folded his arms, looking every inch the soldier now. People might think he was a pacifist sometimes, but they were wrong, he was far from it. He just fought for justice, and this was justice.

"What happened to the others was a tragedy, not an execution, but that doesn't mean that you can demand anything from us. You'll still be tried as criminals and sentenced in time."

Anthony understood rape. Rape was about power, about having one's way dominate another's wishes. That this version of his brother was touting what they did as being anywhere near what he experienced was like already being dead. He felt a cold snap against his face as his all too expressive eyes widened.

"That was not rape. We take every care we can-- we use the mead, it's strictly for procreation-- How backwards are your people?! How far astray did you wander that you call us criminals?!" This was familiar. Steve would be able to equate what he was heading to the people living in Nazi Germany.

Not all of the Germans living there were evil or criminal. This was indoctrination.

But Anthong proved himself further defiant.

"Go ahead, Steven. Hold my feet to the fire. I am responsible for everyone here. They do as I say. I'll take your punishments."

That was not Tony Stark, not outwardly at least. There was more than just age and accent to seperate them.

It was good that he was different, it made it easier for him to keep them separate in his mind and not feel the tangled emotion of these people wearing the faces of his friends. He felt almost sorry for these people, they'd been indoctrinated so hard and for so long that they really believed they were better as property.

"You think that drugging someone against their consent makes it not rape? It's a violation, Tony, it doesn't matter how it's done. If they would have said no in their right minds, then it's rape."

He folded his arms, far too tired to want to deal with this.

"I'm not about to torture you. Every single one of you will receive a fair trial and punishments that fit you personally, not piling all onto one person. As for what happened to your fellows, I truly am sorry about that."

"Are you?" Anthony was an emotional man, jaw clenching. He had no idea what he could do to convince these people not to punish those beneath him. His body felt weaker than it should, knees almost trembling. A few days or even months without the apples would not adversely effect any of them, but half a year or so would see them all likely withering away to nothing. He'd seen the denial of the infusion as punishment before and though he knew Loki would come for him before that happened, the way his knees felt now scared him.

It was actually just the start of a panic attack. Bruce was right. He was too young for this, too green and unseasoned. He had been molded to fit Loki and Loki was like no other. If he couldn't talk his way out of this, he would be stuck.

"What happened to my people? All we heard was that they were all killed. Are you bringing their killer to justice?"

"It's complicated, but the people who orchestrated the attacks will be dealt with. Murder is murder, it doesn't matter who by or who of."

He had a feeling that a lot of people here might be inclined to forgive the murder of these people, though. That any jury would pardon someone who was lashing out at people who had kept them enslaved and raped, it would be a pretty thorny issue when it had to come out publicly.

"Listen-- it doesn't have to be like this. You've committed crimes, but we can work with you to rehabilitate during punishment. You were slaves too, but you can be free now, how can you not want that?"

"I don't think either one of us is ever going to be able to convince the other that our way is the right way to be," Anthony said slowly and sadly. What this false Steven proposed was a supposed assimilation into the society here, not death at all. Punishment was not going to be permanent. Not to Steven. But to Anthony, life without a Master seemed so cruel.

His eyes lowered and he turned partially away from Steven. All of his people watched him, many with teary eyes. There weren't much of them left, either.

"If punishment doesn't include starvation, can I have food for my people? We haven't eaten since you locked us away almost two days ago."

He had little else to say and he wanted to sit down with Bruce and try not to feel the hopelessness of it all. He couldn't. He had to be strong. That's what his Steven would do.

Steve's brow furrowed, now he'd have to find out whether the prisoners had been wilfully neglected out of revenge, or if a schedule for feeding them had simply slipped through the cracks of their disorganised and fractured little society. Either way, he'd have to keep a closer eye on making sure their basic needs were met.

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry that happened."

Now would be the perfect opportunity for him to leave and return to Bucky, which all his heart wanted to do, but-- But Steve could never walk away from doing the right thing, even when it was beating his head against a wall, so he took a step towards Tony instead with earnest eyes.

"Maybe we won't convince each other, but I want to talk to you about it. I want to hear why you are so eager to stay as property and I hope you will listen to my views in return."

A dialogue with one's captor was strange and unheard of. Even if Steven was his race, a slave was a slave. Thankfully, Anthony was nothing like his own Steven, who would likely not see this for what it really could be... An opportunity. He'd be much too weirded out.

Pausing as he walked, Anthony schooled his face before he turned back around to face Steve.

"All right. Tomorrow." He learned from Loki that it was important to be the one to set the terms. He could also see that Steven had been dragged away from something important and wanted to return. He'd find out about that later. "After what's left of my people have eaten."

Steve hadn't expect any kind of agreement and so he was taken aback when it was given so readily, not that he would complain at all for it meant that he would be able to actually talk properly and maybe change some minds. It was a long shot, but these people were slaves and deserved the opportunity to see that they had been victims as well.

"Yeah, okay, I'll come back in the morning. I'll make sure someone brings some food now."

He didn't wait much longer than that, turning and striding out to go and see to food and then hurrying back to Bucky's side. Bruce stood next to Tony, expression carefully neutral.

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Probably not. Not if I can't control my face on how disgusting I think they are," Anthony said as he sat beside Bruce on the floor in the corner. They were used to simple furnishings and sitting on the floor felt better than at the opulent dining table in the other room. "But I don't think we have any other choice."

They needed to find out who killed their people. They needed to break out of here. They needed to take as many with them as they could.

"But I know Steven. He's not the right one but he's close enough. He's easy to manipulate if you do it on his own terms." And that meant playing along with this desire for freedom.

As much as it made his skin crawl

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject