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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"Left?" Anthony spoke in All-Speak, mostly to see what the other, mute woman would do. He wanted them both to understand, though he wasn't sure how one could speak Aesir at all. Could this be a Vanir, disguising herself as a Midgardian? That seemed like the most likely scenario.

Anthony turned and dropped to one knee in front of Loki as Thor, the others, and their dead returned.

"My prince. It is my responsibility to find these lost Midgardians." His play acting was just a little over the top, to match the potential Vanir's. "I will accept punishment after I have found them all."

Now, Tony was well aware that they had been found out. He knew himself well enough to know that the younger Tony was being a purposeful little shit.

He leaned into his princess and lightly touched her elbow. They had to go. Like now.

That Tony had leaned into her was all the opening she needed. She reached out and grabbed at his arm, teleporting them both away as fast and as desperately as she can, her heart thudding with adrenaline and fear now that she realised how utterly foolhardy her plan had been.

The journey and the landing would not be pleasant for Tony, as Loki had instinctively travelled the path the most familiar and safest for her, which meant they had landed on Jotunheim with its frozen wastes. They were far from the palace, closer to the magical centre of the realm, and Loki had no more energy left for further teleportation. She used what little she had left to touch her finger to Tony's forehead so that he would no longer freeze to death, though he would not be entirely immune to the cold.

"...you have my apology."

She did not give it often, but here it was warranted.

"I nearly got us both captured or killed for my own arrogant hubris."

For once, Tony was silent. He was too busy trying not to throw up right now, which took just about all of his focus at the moment. He felt a burning warmth in his chest and a pounding in his ears that left him lightheaded. When he caught his breath, on his hands and knees despite the ice beneath bare skin, Tony shook his head. "Shit happens."

His counterpart, however, was no longer on his knees. He was instead standing in front of Loki, his own heart pounding in his chest. That had been no Vanir. The speaker had been Loki.. He hadn't seen him in his true form but he didn't have to. Anthony had spent half a century traveling with his prince through the void and he knew the way it felt and it tasted innately.

He wasn't sure what to say. This was not the poisoned branch of Yggdrasil with its Thor protecting Midgard. This was another entirely. And yet that had been Loki... Albeit a rather crude actor. Could this version of his Prince be but a child?

Loki also knew the feel of his own magic, though it was nuanced slightly differently in a way that was to be expected from a version of himself that was not truly him. This was a Loki working with these renegade mortals, one who thought to lower himself and pretend to be a slave to infiltrate Asgard? He looked disgusted, though more at the poor acting than at anything else.

Had he done it, he would have chosen two of the slaves and tortured their life stories out of them, then slaughtered them before taking their places, much more convincing than pretending to be extras to a cabal known too well.

"We must follow," he murmured to both Thor and Anthony. "This is no longer some mere Midgardians, there are other sorcerers out there with twisted intentions."

"I will take our property to Asgard. They have suffered enough," Thor said, his voice booming despite his attempt to soften it. Many of the slaves looked relieved to hear that. "And you and I will follow." It was not usually wise for both Princes to leave the care of Asgard at once and their parents would not appreciate Thor's decision, but he couldn't help it. He enjoyed these missions with his brother. He enjoyed how cohesive it made him feel. Thor and Loki were best as a pair. He believed that whole heartedly.

Thor lifted his hammer and the slaves instinctively gathered towards him. Even Bruce, despite how he might have given the majority of his loyalty to Loki as he had cared for him for so long before Anthony was purchased.

Anthony, however, did not wish to leave his Master. Not again. He knew he was not a warrior. He would not be needed in this revenge raid, but he desperately wanted to be. His eyes stayed focused on his Master. Loki had come for him but would be leaving again so soon. It was unfair.

Loki could see that desperation and, though it was likely foolish, he felt himself swayed by it. Anthony was an important slave, more so than any slave had a right to be, though they were far more sensible than Thor had been over Steven and so nobody knew. His eyes flashed briefly at Anthony, before turning to Thor with a thoughtful nod.

"We will take only Anthony and Steven to serve us, so that we may travel light."

To campaign without any slaves was almost unheard of, and he could stretch his seidr to shield them both from whatever climate they happened to encounter once they followed the thread of seidr to wherever it led.

"We will both return and see our property cared for and our dead given their rites, we will gather supplies, and we will leave at nightfall."

"Aye." Thor obviously liked the idea of campaigning with his favoured slave. Over the last few weeks, he had been careful with Steven. They had not slept together in his bed since he had been gifted him back. Steven had instead joined Samuel and the twins in the slave quarters on the patio landing of his room. He took Sif and Fandral to his furs instead and the rumours of his over-attachment to his slave vanished. That wasn't to say that Steven was not still Thor's reason for breathing-- They spent quieter moments in private together.

Thor had become a big proponent of bathing, far away from even his other slaves' so that their gossip did not spread.

Once back on Asgard, Thor called for all of his slaves to assist with their dead. There was mourning and then a feast to celebrate their journey to Valhala, where they would await the royal family with James to serve them again in the next Realm.

Anthony dutifully followed Loki about and did as he was told without wit or retort. Those large brown eyes of his eyes stayed focused on his Prince as if he was afraid he might disappear again.

Loki was not so clingy and he barely paid attention to Anthony once they were back save to order him to go and collect all of the belongings they may need for a possibly lengthy campaign away. Though there was a small look passed between them that said silently that he would speak on this when they finally had a moment alone, that he too had missed his constant shadow.

Anthony would find that he had to take his eyes off Loki to do as he was bidden, but he would not be alone long before a large blond man in red and gold slammed into him and gathered him into the tightest of embraces.

"Anthony!" Steven sounded choked up. "I feared that I wouldn't see you again until I reached Valhalla."

Anthony wasn't prepared for Steven and hadnt really been thinking about him too much as he tried his hardest to prepare quickly so he could return to Loki's side. The force of those arms left him reeling and he held on tightly so he wouldn't immediately tip over. It was so good to see him, so good to touch him. That false Steven had been impossible, how did his older self manage to get along with him at all?

"Why do you think you would go to Valhalla," Anthony teased as he pressed his face against his neck. "You fancy yourself some sort of warrior do you?"

There were so many things Anthony wanted to say, so much he wanted to tell him.

"Help me with these. We're going on a hunt."

Anthony would just have to forget the hunt for a moment because Steven had no intention of letting him go, lifting him right off his feet and squeezing him. Tears ran down his cheeks but he had no shame in them, Aesir men were not raised to believe emotion was something to be hidden and those were traits passed on to their slaves. If tears were appropriate, then let them flow and do not be ashamed.

"I would have made sure to come to Valhalla to follow you, you fool."

Stupid man.

"You need to stop being captured, I don't know how much my heart can take. You ought to have seen Prince Loki, I have never beheld such anger before."

Anthony refused to do anything until Steven put him down. He beat roughly on his shoulder until both of his feet were on the ground. He knew that Loki had come for him, he had never been in doubt of it, though no other slave would expect their master to go to such great lengths to come to their rescue. He made something in his gut twist to hear about Loki's anger.

"I hate to have caused him pain, but he was glorious when he came. The poisoned Midgardians that had fled came back somehow with the help of Vanaheim to take all Midgardians from the training moon. We were locked apart in two buildings. One group was killed and we were forgotten, left to starve, until your counterpart came to speak with us. I tried to convince him of the wrongness of his ways, but he was stubborn. I never want to meet him again. He's only enough like you to have hurt to converse with."

Steven scrubbed his face free of tears when he finally released Anthony, before tugging him down the corridor and away from where the supplies were that they needed to start gathering for a trip with their princes.

"Do not think of them as us, they are the product of a diseased world tree and should be pitied but not conversed with. He wasn't me, I am me, a proud slave of Prince Thor, do not think of me another way."

This was the reality where things made sense, where each Midgardian had their purpose and their sense of being part of a bigger whole.

"You need bathing and shaving, you look a disgrace. We can gather supplies after, but if you go into the quartermaster's chambers looking this way then gossip will spread about Prince Loki keeping a slovenly household."

"No one gossips about Prince Loki," Anthony said, because be couldn't deny that Steven's point of view was inaccurate to his face. It would start an argument and Anthony didn't want that. He knew that not every Midgardian was happy or had a fulfilling life. Not everyone was lucky enough to work in a great household like this. Not every Master was kind either.

Bruce showed him that, showing him the horrors that some slave owners could force their property through.

Even if it was their right as owners to do it. That was the same as Loki deciding to snuff him out of he wished. There would be no trial. Loki had to right to do anything he wished to him. Anthony would gladly allow any of it but not all slaves would feel the same way.

And what about those slaves in the training village that reached their third knots? They would all be worked to death on Vanaheim or Asgard within a few years.

Or, if that wasn't too bad, what about Midgard itself? Billions of people might reside on that world as they had on the Midgard they conquered, feeling just as this Steve Barnea felt.

Anthony felt conflicted for the first time as he shifted the subject.

"But I will shave and bathe-- tell me of your time with the Prince?"

Anthony was a fool if he believed that nobody gossiped about Prince Loki, he was often the prince far more gossiped about because of his unusual and unorthodox interests and decisions. He had no idea either of the possible moral dilemma going through Anthony's mind, he was content in his lot in life and he would have been content to serve wherever he ended up, and so it didn't register with him that some may not be.

"It had been-- wonderful."

Steven had a sparkle to his eyes again, just as he had the last time he had served Thor. He couldn't say too much out in the open, but Anthony was smart and should be able to tell that he and his prince had become just as close as ever.

"None speak of impropriety now, I rarely share his furs, far less even than you are called to your master's."

Anthony had always wanted more. He wanted everything. Loki had been a lucky match because he not only tempered Anthony, but gave into him as well. One only had to look at the chamber off of Loki's with all of its gear and gadgets to know that Anthony was lucky. Why couldn't every Midgardian feel as he felt though? He poured water into a basin to soap up his face for the razor. He would have Steven shave him. The blond could scrap his skin perfectly.

"You don't look as if your master never takes you to his furs," Anthony had to point out.

Anthony knew that Steven had likely been the sole companion for Thor's furs for too much time, but the same was true of himself and Loki. Loki showed interest in no other Asgard. Anthony never had to share him.

But they were safe about it. None really came snooping into Loki's bedchambers.

"He has come into the habit of taking long and contemplative private bathing time."

Obviously accompanied by his favoured slave where none might see how tender their relationship had become, much much more than just slave and master, very inappropriate considering the difference in their station.

He took up the razor and applied cream to Anthony's face before gently moving it over his skin with practised ease. It was rare for a Midgardian to sport a beard, most of them were clean shaven and careful with their appearances.

"Tell me-- you seem heartsore, what is it that troubles you? Are you not happy that you are home?"

There was no way on this Realm or universe that Anthony would express anything of his feelings to Steven on this matter. He would just be schooled to keep his mouth shut on it, because he himself had it good and Steven would never understand that the dissatisfaction of some slaves with their positions might be a true thing. Thor tended to keep him busy and away from intrigue but Loki had often instructed Anthony to keep his ears open to the slaves. No one was afraid of an uprising or anything like that, but sometimes the ambition of one person could hurt others. And as good Masters, the Asgardian royal family did its best to curb that potential.

He closed his eyes as Steven shaved him, exhaling through his nose.

"I don't want us to go on this revenge hunt," he said truthfully before adding an only partially false reason for it. "I want to be in a quieter service to my Master. His books must need dusting by now."

Steven wasn't as dense as some people seemed to think he was, and he wasn't fooled by these half truths. There was something deeper here, something that Anthony wasn't telling him, and that hurt. They had been companions since they were young, Anthony was like a brother to him, he did not think that they had ever had secrets before.

His expression fell, but he covered it quickly and Anthony had his eyes shut so he shouldn't be able to tell.

"...nobody has told you yet?" The question was tentative. "When you are cleaned, there's something I have to show you."

Anthony's eyes snapped open and he grabbed the wrist that held the blade above his face. "I don't like that tone," he said. "I've been home for fifteen minutes, no one's told me anything about anything and--"

He didn't need to be cleaned. He had bathed in the house that they were imprisoned within and while he would love a good soak, he smelled all right enough.

"Show me now." His personality didn't do very well with waiting.

Anthony was only half shaved and, even if he could sense the other man's urgency, he wasn't about to let him go wandering through the palace like this. So he firmly pushed him back and took his wrist free again, carefully scraping the last of the foam and oils away from his face.

Only then did he take him through the palace to stop outside of Loki's chambers, where a faint smell of char permeated the air for a few corridors all around.

"When the Prince returned he went and petitioned the All-Father to mount a rescue and was refused, he left the throne room and came here. People have said this was rage because of being denied in his moment of triumph, but-- I know it was grief and fear for you."

He opened the doors to a scene of true devastation. Magic had clearly burst from Loki at all angles and burned his belongings, his books, his furs. Chairs were toppled, scorched remains of ash were all that stood where centuries of book collections had been.

Though his mouth was agape, Anthony was not currently worried about the mess he would have to clean up, but at the outpouring of emotion. For him. He exhaled slowly and then reached out to take both doors and pull them closed quickly.

"No one is to see this."

Loki had been living in the ruins of a room for a month. The knowledge of that washing over him dashed all fears for the struggles of lesser slaves.

His duty was only to worry about his master. He could see that now in the sheer, horrible mess of his room that he had made.

Anthony's eyes flickered upwards towards Steven, wondering if his Prince was being judged at the moment. As good as it felt to be so loved, Anthony worried for his master.

"We have things to do now. We can't talk about this anymore. Prepare your weapons. We are going to kill them for this."

Not for hurting him, but for hurting Loki.

Steven wasn't judging. Though Thor would always hold his heart and his loyalty, Loki had earned his respect and care for being so kind as to take him in and make sure that he and Thor would be reunited again. It was for that reason that he felt only pity here, and immediately nodded as he went to draw Anthony down the corridors and towards the armoury and kitchens and prepare their packs.

"None know of that save my prince, me, and four other slaves who were in the vicinity of the blast. Those four have gossiped, but they did not see the extent of the damage or know why it was done, that is why I thought someone may have told you."

He reached out to put a hand on Anthony's shoulder, words soft but fervent.

"We are lucky to hold the hearts of people so much greater than us, but sometimes it can feel like the burden of a mountain."

"We are not lucky," Anthony said, not looking up at Steven with his earnest, well meaning eyes. "It makes our jobs more difficult because now we have to do more than just serve. We have to protect." He'd never really known that Loki held so much of him in his heart. Yes, he assumed he'd be rescued because Loki hated to be stolen from and he hated to look bad in front of other people, but he'd never suspected that an ounce of his feelings could be reflected in Loki.

And it hurt. It hurt because he'd been jealous of Steven's position, of having Thor's obvious love. And now it hurt because it was so dangerous for his prince as well now.

Anthony needed to get back to Loki. But they would be on campaign, unable to speak. This would fester. Anthony knew himself far too well.

"If one slave gossips, they all will soon. If it's about Loki's failure, that is only marginally better than the other. I'll put a stop to it. Let me gather from the kitchens alone." He needed to waltz in, show his face, and brag about how Loki, not Thor, bested the poisoned Midgardians.

"I think all Midgardians are lucky, we have the most important purpose of all the races - we care for the Aesir, we keep their farms running and their bodies fed, we oil the weapons they use to protect us all, and we are there to be comfort when they need it."

He, for one, was extremely proud of what he was and the station he held in life. He would have been proud to enter the unclaimed guard as well, though he would have been sad not to have been chosen, and his life still would have had great meaning to it.

"The gossip has been spreading for days now, I'm not sure how much you'll be able to curb it, but you can go to the kitchens alone. I'll go and prepare the horses and weapons."

Before Steven left, Anthony took him up in his arms for saying that. The other Steve had been just as assured with his position it seemed, and they likely were very similar, but this one said the things that Anthony knew to be true and in turn, it made him feel so much better. The embrace was too long. A few passing kitchen slaves notices but hurried on.

"I missed you," Anthony said, gazing up into eyes unlike any other. "I missed you a thousand times over. I can only bear being apart from you when your duties make anything else impossible but to be kept from you is nothing I want to happen again."

He dropped back onto his heels and hurried into the kitchen, all bravado and full of self importance.

"Do you think Prince Loki would be pleased to see such shoddy work?! You pack food like fools. It's a good thing he went to reclaim the two members of the kitchen staff taken from the training moon because the rest of you are worthless!"

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