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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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!"

Steven was more than happy to hold Anthony in his arms in return, squeezing him tight in muscle-bound arms. Though some of the other slaves noticed, Steven wasn't too worried; two slaves having a romance was not the scandal that a master and slave caring too much for each other was. It was just considered slightly stupid by other slaves, because either of them could be sold or given away easily.

The kitchen slaves were used to this sort of talk, though one or two rolled their eyes and made almost exaggerated motions to repack the food that they had been ordered to do so.

"He went to reclaim them because he was shamed at being unable to even stop Midgardians heathens from stealing Aesir property," that was one of the younger and newer kitchen slaves, still reeking of his own bravado from having being chosen for the palace kitchens.

The mouth on the newcomer had more people cringing than had likely been the idea. She thought herself so smart, and from the looks of her, had been snatched up just after her second knot. She’d not been in the danger zone just yet and this had been a lucrative position.

Most of her fellow workers turned away.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Anthony could snub his nose at anyone. He had picked up some of Loki’s traits, sure, but this one was entirely his own. “The cauldron scrubber? A girl who won’t live to be invited to the next big, successful raid? One who will never see what a campaign is like? Or how rustling fresh blood is dangerous and exciting…? For a no one, you sure have a lot of opinions.”

Anthony snapped his fingers and the head of kitchen staff grunted as he pulled himself from the menu preparation of the day. Technically, he didn’t answer to Anthony, he answered to Bruce as head of palace household, but Anthony was in a position of him. And knew all of this was for show too. “Aye?”

“I think this no one should be reassigned to a place I never have to see her again. She spoke ill of the prince, who led a successful raid, brought back many children and reclaimed and punished those that attempted to take from Asgard. With a mouth like that, she’ll do well spreading manure in Idun’s orchard, don’t you think?”

"Anthony, she is new--"

"And when I was new, I had my lips sewn shut for being unable to mind them. Anyone who is not working to prepare a feast for the Princes' celebratory hunt can go with her to the orchard where they can see but never taste the apples that you and I know well," Anthony said to the larger man and turned to leave. He would return for what would likely be a grand feast shortly.

While his words were harsh and mostly true, especially if she never learned to mind her tongue, it was possible for even the lowliest of house slaves to be granted the apples if the proved themselves good at their work. Idunn had a certain amount left over after all of the Aesir had been fed, and their personal slaves, and she allotted those throughout all the cities and villages of the realm for exceptional slaves to continue service.

She was not, however, an exceptional slave and she glared true venom at Anthony as she turned to argue with the head of the kitchen staff, a truly stupid thing to do as then his heart hardened to her as well. She would be sent to the orchard for the next month to spread manure and hopefully that would temper her tongue.

But it would show Anthony that gossip really had spread.

At least some proper packs would be ready for him when he did return, though it was Bruce that he ran into next. The man now washed and in clean clothes of his own, clutching a newly bound and expensive looking book in his arms. He paused in his quick steps towards his chambers to smile at Anthony, something weary behind his eyes.

"It is good to be home, hm?"

Anthony paused. It wasn’t that he had forgotten Bruce, he hadn’t. The man was his world when his world was without Loki. Romance had never happened between the two, despite Anthony’s pushing it on occasion, but that didn’t mean that it couldn’t be one sided. He loved Steven like a brother, he was his oldest and dearest friend in a life where that rarely happened. And in many ways, Bruce was a great deal like a father figure too, but it went further than that. Bruce saved his skin far too often for Anthony not to feel more than he ought to for this weary eyed, sad, resigned, but incredible Midgardian.

“You don’t look all that pleased to be back.” He needed to get to Loki’s side, but an extra minute or so to walk with Bruce back to his quarters wouldn’t matter much. And Anthony wanted to avoid looking up at Loki for a little while longer. His own emotions were frayed at the edges now that he knew what he did. “And it seems that the staff has been running their mouths… You’re going to have a lot of work to clean up before I send everyone out to the fields-- Can I even do that? I know my ranking but does that mean that I can just clean house and have new Midgardians brought in?”

Because yeah, he was really thinking of doing that.

Bruce was pleased to be back, this palace had been his home for longer than several Midgardian lifetimes, but he was tired from the ordeal of what they had been through and sad for the fate of Midgardians who didn't know what it was to have true purpose to their lives.

"No, I can do that, but you can't. If someone displeases you then you can issue punishment, but for greater infractions then you're supposed to come to me so that I can handle it."

Bruce shifted the book in his arms to show it off to Anthony, it was a history of the relationship between Midgard and Asgard, quite old and a valuable tome.

"The All-Father had this gifted to me on my return, it seems you were not the only one missed."

Anthony knew that Bruce held a fond place in the heart of the All-Father, but he also knew he was no longer attached to anyone in particular but instead managed the entire household. The responsibilities were greater but the prestige lower. And to be honest, Anthony didn’t have a head for that sort of thing. His hierarchy tended to put Loki above all else. As it should be.

He was about to argue with Bruce about responsibility when he showed off the book. Something some old and so well bound was immeasurably valuable. He blinked at the book and then at Bruce. The other man’s whole room was lined in books, floor to ceiling, but most were just bound parchment or scrolls without embellishment…they were cheap copies.

“Bruce… Of course you—” He didn’t want to be the ‘only one missed.’ The implications were terrible. Anthony still felt a little sick about it. Sure, he knew he fawned over Loki, he knew he was in love with him, but he never stepped over that line. He made sure of it. Bruce taught him well when it came to that. “You’re the most precious Midgardian in this palace. No one questions that. And this gift…it’s beautiful. And well deserved.”

"Not the most precious Midgardian to the ones who came to rescue us," Bruce said with a small smile, though he made sure to keep his voice down in case anyone should happen to come within hearing distance. "I've been back in the palace for over an hour, that means I have already heard all the gossip. You needn't fear, all think the Prince showed his temper in pique of childishness, not out of inappropriate affection."

Bruce had never judged, it's why he had helped Anthony understand how he had to behave with Loki and then pass that wisdom on to Steven after he had disgraced himself with the older prince.

"The All-Father would never have come for me, and that is something you must be prepared for one day. I am content with that decision as it was not the best use of resources to keep Asgard safe to come for us, one day you may need to understand why your master does not come."

But the book was a gift that showed that even if Odin's duty had forbidden rescue, his heart was glad for it.

Anthony’s eyes widened and he more or less decided not just to walk Bruce back to his room, but to shove him inside and close the door behind himself after he hurried in after him. He wasn’t angry, but he found the entire thing to be utterly embarrassing. He wouldn’t argue about being left one day. He had no intention of needing to be rescued again and he intended to stay with Loki until the apples ceased working and then he would retire to doing menial tasks away from Loki’s sight so that the Asgardian didn’t need to witness his quick aging and death.

What bothered him was again how easily Bruce had determined the reason for the anger…and why Loki had not bothered to put his things right for a full month after Anthony had been taken. He pinched the bridge of his nose and paced in the small spot he’d often sit in to be lectured by the older man on how to properly serve.

“You need to get it out of your mind immediately that he cares about me. The only thing we need to do is damage control on anyone thinking he was being childish,” Anthony insisted. He was deflecting, yes, but he knew Loki. His prince was not fickle and gossip cut him despite how aloof he acted. “He’s been through so much. We need to turn the gossip elsewhere.”

It would take a lot more than Anthony trying to boss him around to intimidate Bruce, he had been around for far too long and see far too much. Besides, he knew Anthony well enough now to see that he was only trying to mask the fear for his master and for someone knowing his secrets.

"I don't care how the two of you feel about each other, Prince Loki is sensible enough not to flaunt it and so I think you're safe. And you're worrying too much over gossip, there's always gossip and isn't it better for it to be about a childish rage than the potential truth?"

Childishness was, after all, something that Loki had been accused of before. It might stain his reputation a bit, but nothing like finding out he had destroyed his rooms, lived in the devastation for a month, and gone behind the All-Father's back all for the love of a slave.

Opening his mouth to give a retort, any words fell silent on his tongue as he leaned back against Bruce’s door and let his head hit it with a bang. “Stop being so wise. It’s really annoying and… And…Fine. You’re right. Always right, aren’t you?” He couldn’t help but rub a hand down his face. “I have to go back and finish getting ready. One of the imposters.. It was Loki. I’m sure of it, shapeshifted to try and fit in. And that’s a secret, Bruce. We have to find him and kill him….or… I don’t know what the prince is planning but—”

Anthony huffed and reached out to his hug his friend and advisor and teacher. It was a swifter, smaller hug than the one he gave to Steven.

“So it might be awhile until I see you again.” Or it might be never. A campaign like this was not sactioned by the All-Father after all. “Just give us a head start before you tell anyone?”

Bruce’s loyalties were hard to pin point.

To the All-Father yes, but also to the princes.

Bruce's heart was troubled by this, but he couldn't stop the two princes from being headstrong, he didn't have that sort of authority. But hunting down another version of Loki seemed foolhardy and might only lead to all-out war with these other realities that existed... something which he did not want to see.

"You should try and counsel your master against this, there is little that can be gained from pursuing retribution in this way."

But he doubted that Anthony would be able to do anything either, and so he reached out and put his hands on the younger man's shoulders in a gesture that was both warm and affectionate.

"I will give you until sundown, but then I must tell all I know to the All-Father, so do not be surprised if you are brought back before too long."

Loki would never listen to him. Not in this, not when listening to him would wound his pride in front of Thor, or in front of that young version of himself. But Anthony would have to try. He was sworn to keep Loki's well being after all.

Hurrying from the kitchen where he inspected the food to be wrapped up for extended travel between four party members, Anthony found his master in the stables, not his bedroom. That seemed almost like a shrine of his grief.

He paused at the large doors, watching Loki in profile, before he sent the stable hands away and plodded up to the prince.

They were alone for the most part.... And that was difficult for Anthony too. Propriety was never one of his strong suits when they were in public and in private it was so much harder.

"My prince... Provisions have been obtained. And I packed some of your things." So he had seen the room. He made had clear. "But I... I think we should stay here. I do not want to meet your inferior."

It had partly been seeing the state of his brother's rooms that had convinced Thor to come with him against the All-Father's orders, he knew what it was like to love a slave more than was appropriate and he owed Loki for having kept Steven and reuniting them after helping him learn how to be more circumspect. It had been humiliating enough to have Thor seeing that, but to now know that Anthony had seen the evidence of his grief was somehow more upsetting.

It felt vulnerable in a way he disliked being, and that made him sharp and eager to find retribution on something else.

"We have naught to fear from him, but I will not allow him to remain alive, poisoning my name with his foolish deeds. Let me hear no more dissent on this, Anthony."

[Fossil!!!!!]

If there was one thing that Anthony never wanted to see, it was his prince being something other than completely sure and calculating. He understood that this was about his pride, he knew it was going to end in punishment, and that there could be massive consequences. Usually, Anthony was completely up for whatever the wind brought their way, but this time, he feared for what would become of them.

Anthony was not going to hold his tongue. He marched himself in pristine tall boots towards the man staring at his horses, and reached out to take the hem of his sleeve. He’d been doing this from time to time for the last fifty or so odd years of his employment with Loki and while it was childish, and he knew that, Anthony was tactile and the connection was important to him.

Even if it was just through fabric.

“They have the backing of many poisoned worlds. Would it not be better to find a way to sever the branch rather than pluck the twigs?”

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