fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

I come from a land of ice and snow

Asgard sat atop the branches of Yggdrasil since time began, and little had changed in their society in the years since. Each Asgardian was long-lived into the millennia, their lands were fertile, their people brave and strong. They had their vassals, their allies, and their enemies. Yet even those who opposed them respected the might of the Golden Dias, and the royalty who sat upon it. Currently that was Odin Borson, though he grew weary more easily now and had begun to consider passing the throne to his eldest son.

He had been blessed with many children, but only two that he considered worthy of his lineage and status. His firstborn, Thor, strong and honourable and everything an Asgardian warrior should be. His second son, Loki, was not natural born, though none knew that but his wife. He was different, a creature of magic and mayhem, of sharp intelligence. Both were worthy, but together they would take Asgard to a new prosperity, he was certain of it.

Midgard, where the mortals dwelt, was a land raided every few centuries for stock. It was seen as a breeding ground, much like a corral for cattle. Mortals were lesser, short-lived and weak, they were fit only as slaves. The last raid had taken place when Loki had been but a baby, nearly a thousand years ago, but the mortals that had been taken had been bred and cared for so that a healthy slave population still thrived. Slaves were given a weakened mixture of Idunn's crop with their food, to extend their natural lives to at least a few centuries in order to make them worth the effort to train. They had no rights, but they were taught well that this was their natural position.

All slave children were raised in a central pen and taught the same when small, those that then displayed talent at cooking, riding, hunting, housework, artisan skills, or singing were then measured off to be specially trained for higher masters. Every five years those who could afford to buy a slave, or those of high enough status to simply demand them, came to the corral and chose. Those who were chosen were special, were envied, and those who were not ended up working the fields out in the far reaches of Asgard, the most menial of work.

Anthony and Steven had been friends since they were little and being raised in the large pens together. Both had excelled, Anthony at crafting and Steven at warrior's skills, but neither were chosen when they were five, nor ten, nor even fifteen. Now, at twenty, it was their final chance to be chosen before they would be assigned to one of the meanest farmers beyond the borders of the great capital. Steven woke Anthony as the dawn rose, mingled excitement and nerves on his face.

"Anthony! Wake up, I've got news! I heard the overseer talking to one of the passing guards, and Princes Thor and Loki are coming to the corral today."

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Loki and Anthony had engaged in some bed sport after the vulnerable confessions of love that could never be repeated within earshot of anyone else, but thankfully they had both spent their seed by the time that Thor interrupted them. Loki was asleep in his furs, looking calm and content for once, whether Anthony was by his side or whether his slave was doing something else through lack of sleep.

He sat up at once, however, as soon as his brother simply barged in without waiting for permission to enter. He yawned and passed a hand over his face, lazily reclining back and not bothering to cover his nakedness for there was no need for shame.

"Is it truly so urgent? Or will this have me teaching you the definition of the word once more."

“I wish not for war.”

Those words had Anthony glancing over his shoulder, not st Thor but beyond him. Steven was not there, an odd thing, and he frowned, placing the arc reactor he had been tinkering with since salvaging it from the suit his older self had been wearing was pried from him some years ago. He was nearly there at unlocking its secret, for he had figured out that it produced more than just perpetual light, but also perpetual energy. He had toyed with it working in many objects and his inventions had become dazzling, though still only those of a slave. He hoped to present it to his prince once he found a meaningful use of it. For now, he slipped it away and went to fetch both princes some wine.

Thor, as always, ignored him.

“I have found your other self. She and I have come to compromise as we have decided that there is no way her branch of the tree can ever be saved. She wishes to try to do so but I do not believe her capable of changing minds in any near future. As such, we wish to work to separate her branch from the tree, and every twig it touches. All will be removed.”

Loki might have been content to continue lounging on his furs throughout this conversation, but he sat bolt upright when Thor revealed where he had been with a frown growing ever more and more present on his face. Anger flashed in green eyes, a fury that his brother would go on such an expedition without him and return as if he had no right to take part in any negotiation.

"You have met with the Loki of this reality and did not think to bring me? You did not consider that she may also possess the gift of manipulation and deception, and thought to do this alone?"

He pulled up off the furs and began to tug on his clothing, relying on Anthony to pass him what he needed in order so that he may keep his full attention on Thor.

"You are a fool, this entire branch must be eliminated."

“She does possess intent to manipulate and deceive,” Thor said abruptly. “But while you may still manage to grip me in trust, she does not. You forget that, though you find me to be without mental worth, I had been capable of seeing the shoddy disguise she used to attempt to infiltrate us. She is not you, brother. She wears the Jotun skin. She is only several centuries old. She is a child, a manipulative one so doubt since she attempted to make me believe that she is no longer friends and companions with her Anthony, but the truth still stands. I can not risk mutual annihilation over a few thousand Midgardians. While I do not doubt we would be victorious, as all here are weak, we will suffer heavy, damaging losses.”

Thor had never looked so kingly, stood high and proud with his shoulders back and his lips pressed in a thin line.

His eyes were clear and without magical manipulation.

“Your heart is too much in this. Pretend as you like but we are kin in heart if not in blood and we suffer from the same afflictions.”

Perhaps at any other time, Loki would have been proud of Thor for being able to disassemble like this and prove himself on the path to wisdom even if he hadn't finished that journey by a long way, but not now. His heart had been too bruised and he was a vindictive creature who could not forgive.

"Do not think to insult me."

It was said with a hiss as he finished dressing and allowed his armour to appear around him, eyes hard and yet hurt at the same time.

"I do not think with my heart, I am no milksop who cannot understand where boundaries of propriety lie. I am here to protect my homeland, and if you will not do it then I will."

Though Anthony had turned his face away for shame, goblets in his hands but undelivered, what Thor said next had him startled and afraid. “Do not cross me, brother.”

The princes could not go to war. Anthony felt immediately to blame and his cheeks reddened and he struggled to keep his mouth shut. Nothing could come of the use of his tongue, he almost heard Brice murmur that in his ear as if he stood behind him now. His shoulders rolled back and he watched Loki, stealthily setting the burden down so he had use of his hands if called upon.

“You know that I love Asgard and you know I am committed to all of the realms beneath her. I am fearful of nearly nothing, but to lose a single person in an avoidable war—. That does frighten me. I can not thrust our Realm into this conflict, as much as I enjoy a battle. Please open your eyes and see, Loki. You have the greater mind here.”

Or perhaps Thor did, Anthony thought, stroking Loki’s sizeable ego.

"They took Anthony from me!"

It was a complete contradiction to him saying that he had a mind that thought on no matters of the heart, but he was furious and terrified and hurting. He had thought that Thor was behind him on this and now he felt betrayed, as if he had come here only to be humiliated.

"I will not have them think that they can do such things and survive without retribution, go back to Asgard and do as you will, but you will have to drag me there by the hair if you think to pull me from my path!"

The trouble was, as Anthony knew, Thor would drag Loki by the hair if he had to. Getting home would be difficult but he had a feeling that their mother and father knew of their escapades and with some help from Vanaheim and Heindall, they could pull them through the Void together.

“We have killed two dozen for every one of ours that they slaughtered in captivity,” Thor pointed out. “We have returned your prized possession to you and he was left unhurt in any way. We decimated those that we would have normally left to die on their own on that training moon. Recompense has been met many fold, brother, and if we are to do any more, there will be questions!”

Thor stepped forward, armour dissolving from his body.

“We have come to seek a way to close all ties with this branch if the tree. We had consulted with your counterpart and it can be done by work on both sides. This is a victory.”

"This is no victory, you wish to work with this diseased and inferior version of myself and leave them without further retribution. That is cowardice and you are colluding with the enemy in ways that do not befit you."

Thor and Anthony should both recognise that he was too far gone into anger to see rationality here. He had been so scared and so grief stricken, embarrassed by his failings, and now furious at being led on a merry chase to Jotunheim only to have his brother no longer favour the fight.

He spat in Thor's face, sudden and vicious.

"Do as you will, but I will have my vengeance."

Laying hands on his brother was the last thing Thor wanted to do, but he grabbed at Loki anyway in an attempt to slam him bodily against the part of the tent that was flush to the cave wall. “How many times do you need to face treason charges?!”

Anthony was on his feet in a flash, eyes wide and willing to thrust himself between the brothers if Loki appeared to be injured. He knew these two, he knew that Loki could hold his own, but his place was always fodder, not because he was a slave but because he was in love.

“Exile and inprisonment for a mere year will be the least of your charges. We have a chance to protect our people and you put a slave before them?!”

Not even Thor had done that. The throne had come first, as much as he cared for Steven.

It was different for Thor. He had been able to replace his last personal slave, James had become Steven and there had been no permanent wounds, because he also had his friends and the accolades of the public to bolster him. Loki had nothing that was his and his alone, no friends and no truly faithful servants, bar his Anthony. He would not find another with this wit and intelligence, with the right blend of chaos and obedience, and so-- yes, he would risk much for a slave.

A knife flashed in his hand and drove towards Thor's shoulder, aiming to get his brother off rather than actually wound, still avoiding an outright fight.

"Why must you threaten me with imprisonment and disgrace? You are my brother, Thor, is it no longer common for blood to stand with blood against the enemy?"

“I do not threaten,” Thor growled, not moving away from the knife. If Loki wanted to allow it to sink into him, given that it was the one form of blade that could, he would allow it. The damage would be minimal and Thor would hardly even feel it. “I remind what happened the last time you strayed. I am your brother. I am standing with you. But the enemy is this notion of yours. It is impossible to be the one to spout reason and logic at you! That is not the lot I was born for!”

Perhaps the last sentences were not meant to be comical, but Anthony nearly lost it then and guffawed into the tense situation.

Thor spoke true. He was not one for words. He was not one for sensibilities.

Logic and reason (and manipulation of both) were meant to be part of Loki’s repertoire. At least Thor had the presence of mind to know this. It would be something else entirely for Loki to come to realise that his brother never spoke falsely when his heart was so wounded.

"And this is what you wish of me? To agree to slink home as though defeated, in order to allow them freedom to spread their perverse way of thinking throughout this whole branch of the Tree? Your mind has been poisoned in speaking with this false Loki without me, you were a fool to do so."

Except that he hadn't been.

If Loki's heart were not involved in this decision, if Anthony had never been a pawn in these battles, then he would already have agreed to go. But he was wounded and scared and furious, now with Thor for refusing to stand with him when he felt that his need was greatest.

“I expect you to be a prince of Asgard and to put the safety of our Realm and of all the Realms that require us to protect them first!”

The blood had already congealed from the knife wound in Thor’s shoulder and caused him no pain, but Anthony felt as if it might as well have pushed through and found a home in his gut. He could, and likely would, be sent away for this. He was the reason that Loki was willing to go completely against everything, he was the very heart of this matter.

While Steven’s dalliance had simply looked bad for Thor’s reputation, Anthony’s accidental capture could get everyone he knew and loved and served killed. If Thor of all people could see that, the All-Father surely could as well. And Bruce might have told Odin more detail too. It seemed only correct, for Bruce’s loyalty was to the royal family, not to one young Midgardian that fancied him.

There were tears in Anthony’s eyes that he could not stop from falling and that felt like a weakness. Steven never cried in front of others.

He let his shoulders slump and he bowed his head, visible just over Thor’s wounded shoulder. He’d failed to serve and the shame and horror of it showed.

“Do not make me choose between you and my duty. I love you, Loki. You are and have been always by brother. This is bigger than you.”

Loki wasn't even thinking about how Anthony would probably be discretely removed after this, that even if the All-Father weren't informed then Thor would likely make sure that anything this destructive to Loki's sensibilities was taken away and not returned to him. This was, after all, much worse than what Thor had done, and he had still had to give up Steven for a long time.

All he could think about was how infuriating Thor was, and how embarrassing it reflected on him that Anthony was in tears instead of standing vigil in righteous anger, as if he were ashamed of the path his master was taking. But worst of all, that he knew he couldn't win this, that Thor was stronger and if it came to it then his brother would drag him home unconscious.

"Get out," his voice shook. "Get out of my sight. We will do as you wish, but I no longer wish to see you or speak with you."

Thor took his leave silently, though he did touch his fist to his chest, well aware that Loki would not see it, nor care. He did not spare Anthony even a look, because the Midgardian wasn’t worth it to him. Thor had changed and grown in many ways, he cared for his James and his Steven far too much, but he did not see Anthony as a warrior and therefore, he was beneath his notice. He was much too young to realise that all Midgardians have a place. It would come with time.

Once Thor left, Anthony hurried to the tent flap to secure it and then cleaned up the wine no one was actually drinking now. He just tried to keep busy, he tried not to look so shameful in this. And he tried not to think of how that false Steven might be gloating right now.

Anthony had no control over his destiny. He did his best, he served impeccably. He was thorough and loyal and he put in many, many hard and long hours perfecting his tasks.

And yet, he would be dismissed, just like that with no hope of continuing his servitude in Valhalla.

His life was over.

Anthony was a fool if he believed that Loki would ever let him be dismissed without fighting it every step of the way, or finding a way around that arrangement so that one could be found that suited him. He had meant the forbidden words that he had said before, and it would not only be Anthony's life ruined if he was dismissed.

Unfortunately for Anthony's efforts in righting all the furniture and making sure things were tidy, Loki lashed out with a snarl at the nearest table and sent it, and all on it, crashing to the ground.

"He thinks to shame us both, to send us back home as cowards with naught to show for our campaign but our tails as we flee like the dogs he thinks we are."

The words in Anthony’s mind, whispered now, were Bruce’s. Sometimes you have to sacrifice yourself to set the one you serve on the right course. Bruce never spoke with the Village colloquialisms that Anthony had never gotten away from despite his years at the palace (Steven had almost immediately but Anthony was proud of where he’d come from and Loki never demanded he conform (save for when it suited him).

A glance the table left Anthony sighing as he headed towards it to right it again. Tantrums were Loki’s nature. He’d gotten used to that almost immediately and now it was nothing to right what had been dropped.

“Prince?” It was rare he used the title in private, but he needed to create distance or his forced departure would harm Loki more. “Your brother thinks more highly of you than he does of most people.” He expected a spell or a strike to come at any moment so he didn’t pause. “I asked you not to do this. Prince Thor has made the decision to pull out of this campaign. It doesn’t have anything to do with you, no matter how you’re taking it. No one knows about this campaign save for you and him.” And the All-Father, but Anthony wasn’t invoking the name out loud. “There is no shame for you to return home knowing you’ve staved off a war.”

Perhaps it was the use of his title, so infrequently used when they had privacy, that pulled Loki up short to look directly at his Anthony. His eyes were on fire, a bright green that no mortal eyes could ever achieve, and he looked every inch the wild second son of a royal house.

"You're scared."

It wasn't a question, though it was said with a questioning tone. That Anthony was scared was something suddenly and immediately obvious, what wasn't obvious was why. Why would he be afraid? He would not feel the shame of fleeing from such inferior enemies, he would not be under rebuke for it.

There was never a reason to lie to Loki and though Anthony tried to shield the Prince from many things and often omitted his own feelings to keep them from clogging his prince’s priorities. He knew he was important. He knew very well that he was expected to help and to sway at times. All those in personal employ had told him about that small perk of his position.

Hand on the righted table, Anthony nodded. “Terrified,” he said, voice strong and eyes still wet, though the tears had thankfully been dried.

This was not the first time he’d been sure he’d be turned away. He knew all about the dread and the sick feeling in his stomach. It was painfully familiar.

“Fifty years hasn’t been enough time,” he said. “I thought I’d get a few centuries. And I’m not prepared. I don’t think I’ll even be allowed to remain on long enough to train your next Midgardian. Silly, probably. Bruce helped me and he’ll help him or her too.”

"Do not be absurd, why would you be dismissed? You have not been negligent in your duties or performed any acts of disobedience nearly severe enough to have you taken from my service."

Loki knew that Anthony sometimes got odd notions about himself, odd fears about not being good enough or being replaced, but this definitely seemed to have come out of nowhere and was confusing enough to it abated his temper somewhat as he tried to puzzle it out.

"You will be mine and mine alone until the apples no longer grant you longevity."

His master was brilliant. The man had literally no fault at all inside of his head but in this he seemed utterly and foolishly stubborn about. How could he not see it? Anthony wasn’t sure if it was better to tell him now that Loki’s willingness to go above and beyond for a short lived species, and slave race at that, would be determined detrimental to him as a person and as a prince.

If he kept mum, it would be kind to Loki now and more crushing later.

If he spoke, perhaps anger would allow Loki to do something about his predicament now, though. Anthony would rather die than be sent away.

“It was difficult for everyone to watch Prince Thor and Steven. The punishment for both was to be relieved of their relationship for a year.” Anthony grit his teeth, huge brown eyes harder than they had ever been with concentration. “This is the second time you went against the All-Father for me.”

And the All-Father had known it would be ruin. It was why he had not cared to see the son of Howard and Maria back st the palace.

The reality of what Anthony said crashed over him like ice water and he very suddenly found himself seated upon his furs, a frown of concern and denial at his brow. He would not allow this to happen, Anthony was his and he had already proven that anyone trying to take that from him would find themselves the subject of his wrath.

"This is not the same as Thor and Steven, none know that it is for you that I have defied my father. You and I have always behaved with perfect decorum, and it will be my wilfulness and stubborn selfish pride that will be blamed."

People would see it less as Loki's connection to a slave, and more his immaturity at having anything that was his stolen. Hopefully the All-Father would be wise enough to allow those rumours to be the ones believed and not risk upheaval by actually trying to dismiss his Anthony.

“He is called the All-Father for more than just a title of respect,” Anthony said, standing where he was by the uprighted table. “And there has been talk already. About your pride, yes, but questions among the slaves about what would make you react so strongly for me.”

And Anthony now knew the answer. He almost wished he hadn’t. He could no longer pretend that his love for his master was one sided and proper, as all slaves should feel. And that meant that he had failed in some very big ways here. Loki wouldn’t understand, he wasn’t a Midgardian. While he had punished Anthony before less for mistake and more for his own anger, he still wouldn’t understand the mentality of his servant. Anthony was bred to be companion and labourer and whipping boy and sexual object and cook and maid and everything anyone could ever want him to be. But he was not meant to be equal. He was no Asgardian.

And Loki was treating him as such.

“If the slaves begin to think that you are possessive, I will be taken from you to break you of the folly. If I am a crutch, I will be taken from you to cause you to walk on your own. If you love me... you know what they will do to me. And its not an honourable death, that one. I’ll go to Hel and never be with you again. But you’ll learn the lesson they want at least.”

Loki did not think that he was treating Anthony as an equal. Love him, he might, but he still expected him to adhere to the duties of a slave and did not feel guilt for making him clean or fetch or carry. He was property, well loved property, but still property. He knew that this didn't make it more acceptable in the eyes of Asgard, but it was an important distinction for him.

"I will not let them take you, Anthony, you must know this by now."

This was the ruin that the All-Father predicted. He could not make the right decision. If he took Anthony and tried to force Loki to learn the lessons of the Aesir, he would end up with a rebellion and an unstable wrath unleashed. If he allowed Loki to keep Anthony, he would risk shame and the royal household being manipulated by a Midgardian.

"You will not go to Hel, and nor will you be sold, cease your fears on both. I will not allow it."

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