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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“Uh… No. Why would the princes come here? That’s ridiculous, Steven. Now shut up. We don’t have morning tasks for another…uh…ten minutes. And I’m going to sleep for those ten minutes.” Anthony never minded his lot in life. His father and mother had both been chosen by Odin All-Father years before they were given to one another and before Anthony had been born, but a mishap on Vanaheim had killed them and Odin, who had no use for a child, sent Anthony back to the city outskirts where the rest of his class lived and were trained. Anthony had been four at the time. He barely remembered his parents. He didn’t need to. The other orphans had become his family very quickly.

And then just as quickly had more or less disowned him. Anthony was too smart, had trouble holding his tongue, and could become obsessive on one topic or task and shirk the rest of his duties. Unclaimed, he was meant to work for the greater good of Asgard as needed. He was supposed to help clean streets or buff armor… All things he didn’t like to do as much as he did fixing vehicles or improving on out of date dwarven indoor plumbing.

Anthony pulled his blanket over himself as Steven lorded over him. He couldn’t get any sleep with the taller man there. “Steven, don’t hold your breath. If they are coming, it’s for the kids. Or the women. You know you’ll be placed with the unclaimed guard in a few weeks. You don’t have anything to worry about.” Anthony though… He wasn’t going to have a good life. So he didn’t want to try too hard now either.

Steven had never shunned Anthony, he had been an orphan too, though his parents were far less lofty. His father had been a breeding male, and his mother had been an assistant in the healing halls, nothing so wonderful as having parents that had both belonged to the All-Father himself. He didn't remember them, really, he had been in the city outskirts since he was two years old.

Tall and broad shouldered, with muscles that most mortals might envy, he wore the plain brown tunic of an unclaimed slave well. Blue eyes earnestly looked Anthony over and then pulled the blanket off him in one quick tug.

"When have you ever known me to lie? They're coming here, I swear it on Odin's ravens, so you need to get up. Even if they have come for the kids, if we make a bad impression then we'll be both sold to Muspelheim and not even get to stay on Asgard. So get up."

Anthony frowned up at Steven, shorter arms reaching for the blanket, before he gave up and sat to put on his boots. “What are you going to do? Schedule yourself training time? I mean, that works great for you but I’m not catching anyone’s eye.” Was he just supposed to get covered in grease or bossily tell one of their guardians off about how the irrigation system for the unclaimed gardens could be improved? He was happy for Steven, sort of, the man was pretty much perfect now that he had grown out of his awkward teenaged body. He’d spent the last four and a half years working at his skills day in and day out whenever they didn’t have assigned tasks. He was by far the most muscled here and he had a good shot of being selected for either a camp attendant or even a member of the prince’s personal guard, there to help him prepare for battle of whatever new campaign he was going on.

Anthony didn’t have any showy or flashy skills. He could fight if he had to, he was strong with hand to hand combat thanks to Steven constantly needing a sparring partner, but Prince Thor would never notice him.

Normally that wouldn’t bother him too much, but he didn’t really like the idea of being separated from his only friend. He dragged his feet behind Steven, frowned into his breakfast as Steven gobbled up the dried fish and porridge with nuts and fruit, and followed him out into the yard. “This is pointless.”

Of course Steven wanted to be chosen by someone and live the meaningful life of a claimed slave. As unclaimed, he'd never get the mixture of Idunn's crop that would extend his life, he'd die at the normal human lifespan, ashamed of his low station and useless life. But more than that, he wanted Anthony to be chosen too, the man had such potential and he wanted to keep his friend. It was selfish, slaves knew better than to make good friends until they were claimed and could say their friends might stick around, but he never had been sensible when it came to matters of the heart.

He knew what Prince Thor looked like, of course, he had seen the golden-haired and muscled man on the day he had been gifted Mjolnir when all had been permitted to watch the ceremony. But he didn't know what Prince Loki looked like, though he imagined it would be a younger version of his brother.

There were already four people in the yard come to look at the slaves, and all were dressed in beautifully stitched aurochs leather with green hems. Three women who were examining the children, women, men... everyone. Looking at teeth and muscle, asking after physical health and behaviour problems. The last one, a tall and thin man with dark hair, was walking up and down with a little metal puzzle box and asking people to solve it while talking quietly to them.

Steven nudged Anthony in excitement.

"Look! They must be from one of the guilds that build, or they wouldn't have brought an intelligence test. This is your chance--!"

He was cut off as one of the women stepped forwards and roughly pulled his head back to look at his teeth.

Rude. Asgardians always thought that they were better than everyone else, Anthony thought, and sure, they actually were better than everyone else but that didn’t mean that they had to be so rude about it. Anthony left Steven to it as he was told to recite his training and his stats and then commanded to run some laps and slipped his thumbs into the cord around his waist. He had three knots denoting his age group tied to the end of the cord and would receive his fourth before he was herded up to be shopped around in a little less than a month. Anthony shielded his eyes to the sun and glanced over the walls of the training center to gaze at the golden palace. He wondered if he’d get there again before he was sent away.

Wondering was put on the back burner, however, as a few of the teenagers, those in his own age category but several years younger, were heard laughing at one of their peers who had failed to serve the puzzle and was now stuck with it on his finger. Anthony snorted through his nose, but none of their guardians were paying any attention to them since most of them had gathered around to watch Steven at the far end of the field where he was throwing something or catching something. Anthony couldn’t tell.

The training yards were wide and long, huts and longhouses where the unclaimed lived falling around three quarters of it from wheel spoke hallways. He’d been planning on retreating back to his room when the laughter finally subsided and an uncomfortable sound followed. No one was helping that kid with the caught hand? Still? That was just bad practice, maiming property, and though Anthony felt no affinity for any of these people, he trotted towards the group of gathered teens with the Asgardian merchant or builder’s guild representative and just took charge of the situation.

The puzzle was simple. One had to push four places at once to release the cube and Anthony found them without difficulty, releasing a bloody but not too harmed finger that had been caught inside. “You need to be more careful,” he told the girl. “You’re going to make us all look stupid.”

The overseer had not been quite correct. Prince Thor would not be coming here today, he had gone on a hunt with his closest friends, it was only Loki in attendance. He planned to buy a slave for Thor as a gift for his birthday the following week. Something strong, able to keep up on the hunt, not too stupid for Thor liked conversations with his slaves, and utterly loyal. He had brought three of his servants with him to assist in looking over the physical aspects of the ones on offer.

The puzzle was for his entertainment only.

He had never taken a personal slave himself, only used the palace ones, for he had never found one that suited him. He was wildfire where the rest of Asgard burned inside the brazier, and no slave had interested him enough yet. To see this one, near too old to be chosen at all, solve his little puzzle box with no issue intrigued him. He was not overly muscled, but he had some obvious strength in his short body.

Loki stepped forwards, further intrigued when none of the slaves took a knee. But then, he supposed they may not know who he was.

"You, three knots with the dark hair, do you have a name? I have some questions for you, answer them with instinct. Your owner has told you never to touch their belongings on pain of losing the offending hand, a fire starts and you are alone in their home, what do you do? You have been gifted five gold coins for good service to spend on your own desires, what do you spend them on? You are offered thirty gold coins to pass along information of your owner to another, you cannot refuse or you will be killed, what do you do?"

He prepared himself for disappointment. Most answered as they thought a prospective owner wanted to hear... that they would lose the limb to protect the property, that they would spend the money on something to help them do their work better, that they would refuse and be killed. Boring answers, one with no thought.

“Even I have a name, sir,” he said, not knowing who he was talking to and perhaps just a bit too cheeky for his own good for even if he didn’t know this was a prince, he ought to have known that he was of importance and watched his tongue. “My father named me Anthony,” he said with pride, as it was the only thing his father could leave him at all, and took a step forward.

The questions were odd ones. He’d heard of some of the guilds coming up with strange tests to determine which of the unclaimed were suitable for places within their halls, but these seemed so strange and without any proper application. He’d read great epics concerning intrigue between Asgardians, but he assumed them all well above the pettiness that existed here in the training zone outside the city.

“The answer to your first question is simple. I would put out the flames or die trying. I do not, however, believe that I would die. My owner’s home and hall would have already been protected from flame as I would have long since devised a way to keep his or her possessions safe. If I was given coin to spend at will, I would request permission to keep a small space for mechanical projects and buy tools or scrap to maintain my hobby. Should I be forced to accept coin and give up secrets of my own to another, I would tell the other a lie that was near enough to be convincing and return the money and the story to my owner. He or she should be informed of someone plotting harm.”

Green eyes lit up with interest, more at the attitude than at the answers, though those pleased him as well. This one had a spark of something more than obedience, a hint of chaos and defiance, though only time would tell if that spark could be channelled into the correct course or if it would run too out of control and need to be culled completely.

Someone who created, though, that was good. It didn't necessarily mean that he would be good with magic, many weren't, but innovators were often more willing to open their minds to the possibility of what could be created and done with magic.

"Your leisure time is spent in the creation of mechanical projects? Have you any that you may show me to hand, Anthony?"

In the background, Steve stood panting, sweating, but grinning. He thought he had made a good showing of himself, but it seemed like the builders were interested in Anthony and that would be wonderful! He deserved to be owned by people who would see his worth and give him tasks that encouraged his potential, he would be wasted shovelling manure on a cattle farm.

Though the guardians allowed him to tinker when he wanted to, for the most part, no one had ever wanted to see what he’d done. No one had even praised him for the upgrades to the training center and the unclaimed quarters he had made. Not that he needed praise, but it was just nice to be recognized. He wasn’t like Steven, he wasn’t some crazy embodiment of everything anyone might ever want. His talents were internal. He was handsome, but so were most of the others. Pretty, handsome…they were purposefully bred that way, after all.

“I do, sir,” Anthony said, though his eyes were momentarily averted to see what Steven was up to. No prince was in the group of those watching him…shame. Big shame. He might get scooped up before the one person he wanted to serve ever showed up. Anthony wanted to tell him to hold back, but that wasn’t in Steven’s nature. “It’s not a place for an Asgardian, though. I did piping upgrades to the showers in the bathing chambers last year. It saves water by using wastewater from bathes and showers to water the gardens we keep to feed ourselves and the poorer Asgardians that live outside the city-- Oh. And I’ve made toys. Amusing objects. I have a little bird that chirps.”

He’d made that for a girl a few years back named Pepper, but she was selected by Queen Frigga to be maid to her handmaiden just before her fifteenth birthday. He hadn’t seen her since and kept the little bird.

“That one might be better to show you, but it’s less technical.”

Loki did not fear grime or filth, he had walked in far worse places than the bathing chambers in a slave compound. At least the three servants he had brought with him were not guards and so would not insist that he did not go from the yard, he merely looked over his shoulder and pointed at Steven briefly.

"I will take that one for my brother. Have his papers fetched and prepare him a mount to return to the city."

Steven looked a mixture of delighted and nervous. He didn't know what this man's brother was like, what he did, what sort of duties he would be doing. And he would miss Anthony deeply, that was written all over his face, even as he turned to go with the women to collect his papers. At least being claimed by someone, being owned, was better than being unclaimed.

"Now, Anthony, show me both of these things. I value craftsmanship and innovation, I would see if your enthusiasm is matched by talent. If so, I may take you for myself."

That sinking feeling in his stomach made him so ill. His whole being churned and rolled under his ribcage as if the center of the planet was now directly at his navel. Steven had been chosen. He’d not be allowed to say goodbye. Anthony told himself it didn’t matter. Their purpose was simple and that was to do as they were told. Life had to be meaningful in other ways and did not include making long lasting friendships. Luckily, Anthony never had long lasting friendships. Or any friendships.

Save for Steven.

A moment later, it occurred to him that if this man was going to give Steven to his brother and Anthony was able to make himself worthy, he might be chosen too. And then he and Steven would occasionally see one another. Probably. Hopefully. He squared his shoulders with purpose and marched the craftman to the bathing chambers. They were clean inside, not covered in muck as the other man had suspected. The guardians did not allow anyone to make a mess and much of the younger ones had cleaning duties daily.

Each stall was simple. There were currently no unclaimed inside and so there was no one to chase out for Anthony to give this man the most proper of tours. He was keen and clever about his abilities. He explained how the system worked and how the drainage to the garden helped them grow foods with better nutrients. Maybe that was boastful, but he never minded being so.

Anthony had pride. All of his guardians would tell Loki of that if he asked. It was not a trait they tried to cultivate.

As for the bird… That required the man following Anthony back to his tiny alcove sleeping chamber. He had a pallet bed and a chest underneath and that was it. He pulled back the curtain from his space to reveal intricate designs carved into the wall. Fifteen years of work went into those carvings. He fished out the little mechanical chirping bird and handed it easily over. “If you find it enjoyable, please, my gift to you for speaking with me today, sir.”

That pride was good too, for Loki was not always well liked and any property of his must be able to hold their head high even when others were trying to cast their eyes to the ground. Though, again, only time would tell if that pride bordered on arrogance and proved him unsuitable as property in formal situations or when Loki needed to be obeyed instantly and without question.

The bird, however, was exceptional. Oh, he had seen far greater and more intricate things on sale in the free markets, but this had been created by a slave with few tools and even few material, yet it was delicate, well made, and worked on design. His lips curled upwards at the presumption of a slave offering him a gift, as though any Asgardian could not simply take this as their right. But instead of chastising him, he dipped his head in thanks and slipped it into his pocket.

"Gather what belongings you wish, I will have them bring out your papers, I am purchasing you for myself. Before I finalise the sale, I shall give you the opportunity now to ask of me anything you may wish to, and to refuse should you desire."

Even though that was highly irregular, his main issue would be with an unwilling slave. Loki loved affection, he got too much hatred, he did not need a possession that resented being owned by him.

It was strange to be given permission to ask something out of turn. Normally Anthony did what he wanted, when he wanted. Or he was forced to do it. Either way, he was never spoken to so directly.

"I accept," he said immediately. He'd get to see Steven. That was almost the only thing he cared about. "I just want to know one thing."

Because his owner would obviously want him for his intelligence and problem solving abilities. There was no need to ask what his roles would be.

"I want to know who you are and what guild you are with, sir." He sort of wanted to throw his arms over Loki right now, he was so happy. He instead just hoped his grin showed how thrilling today was for him.

Though that sort of excitement and acceptance could be faked, Loki had a lot of experience with lies and he was often exceptional at spotting when other people tried to deceive him for he was a far more accomplished manipulator than they. So he believed that Anthony was happy for his lot today, and so he would finalise the sale to buy both the slaves he had picked out.

"I am Loki Odinson, and I have no guild for I stand as second son to the All-Father, my duties are not constrained so tightly as those of a working man."

Which meant, obviously, that Steven was to be a gift for Thor and that they were both going to live in the golden palace. His gaze flicked to the wooden carving briefly, considering having it ripped out and brought, but deciding against it. Should Anthony wish to carve around his new bed, he may start a new mural.

"Go now to find my other purchase, gather all your papers, and report to the stables for a mount."

The Prince. He had been talking to the Prince as if he was just a normal Asgardian to specialized in making little puzzle games. Anthony actually blanched a little and then took a sudden knee. He felt like he was about to puke, but that would only get his head kicked in. “I’m so-- I was-- Wow—“ he got to his feet just a moment later because he was otherwise not doing as he was told, made one low bow, and ran out of his quarters.

He didn’t need a single thing under his pallet. He was going to have new clothes and new tools and maybe the next person in his bunk could use whatever he left behind.

Anthony was not that athletic, but he could run pretty fast and so he dashed straight out to the yards and to where Steven was sitting with water and a sweat drenched tunic. “It’s Prince Thor. You’re going to be Prince Thor’s. And Prince Loki picked me. Get up. We have to go. Now. Get your things and meet me in the offices so we can get our papers and I could just kiss you right now, Steven-- The Princes-- We’re going to the palace!”

Steven had been sitting with his water, half morose and half excited. He may never see Anthony again, his closest friend in the world and just like that they were separated. That hurt him, even knowing the nature of their lives and how stupid they had both been to become friends over the years. But he was also excited, he was claimed, he'd have an owner to be loyal to who would hopefully be brave and strong and good.

He looked up sharply when Anthony suddenly appeared again at top speed, his mouth falling open in abject shock. He felt cold all over, he hadn't taken a knee once and Anthony had taken the Prince down into the slave quarters. And then a moment later it sank in and it was like all his dreams had come true at once. He rose to his feet and grabbed Anthony in a tight hug, half laughing and half crying.

"Really and truly? We're staying together? We're royal property? Odin's ravens, Anthony, why didn't anyone tell us that was Prince Loki? He looks nothing like his brother at all."

Wait. No. Papers. He suddenly let go and began pulling Anthony along towards the offices, talking all the while.

"What happened down there? How did you find out? Are you okay?"

“What? No, Steven, I’m being bought to be beheaded. What do you think happened to me that I wouldn’t be all right and I swear to Odin that if you pull my arm out of it’s socket—“ Anthony huffed and puffed the whole way to the offices, finally retrieving his wrist back so that he could bend over and set his hands on his knees. He needed to catch his breath, and soundly, because this was obviously not going to be so great for either of them if they fall over dead.

The woman behind the tall desk looked over a stack of books at them. “Can I help you…”

“Prince Loki-- Needs our—“ He sort of twirled one finger in a circle in hopes that Steve would figure out what was going on here and pick up for him where he left off. Thankfully, Steve was in much better shape and he had no trouble asking for paperwork and the logs of their deeds, to be turned over to their new owners. The woman arched an eyebrow.

“The Princes never come to select their own household slaves. And certainly never ones of three knots…”

“Well then you can have a laugh later tonight, Ingrid,” Anthony said, straightening up. “Or hopefully you’ll never see us again.” He took his own book from the desk and thumbed through it, wincing a little. Too bad he couldn’t rip out pages of infractions.

Steven's book had fewer infractions, but it still contained a lot for fighting. He just couldn't let bullies go, even if those were sometimes the guards. He knew his lot, he accepted that he was lesser, but being greater than someone else meant using that strength to protect and not make sport of them like they were animals to be tortured. He wouldn't stand for that.

He grinned at Ingrid and took his book, even as she went to the door to peer out and see if she could see any evidence of the princes. The sight of the three serving staff in Loki's colours made her pale and dart back behind her books again.

"See that you don't shame us, now go!"

Steven's grin just got wider and he pulled Anthony out again, free from the main compound and out towards the stables where he could see Loki already sat astride his horse, a gorgeous sleek grey creature, with two dun horses tethered behind him. Steven took a knee at once, not that Loki seemed to notice.

"You will not ride back with me. Blond slave..." He checked the records held out to him, and then tossed a finely wrought dwarven steel dagger to Anthony by the hilt. "Steven, you are to be a gift for my brother's birthday, and so must not be seen by him until then. This dagger will provide proof of ownership to the palace guards, have them show you both to my chambers and provided with suitable clothing."

Though he took a knee only after Steve did, Anthony rose to pull the dagger out of the soil. This wasn’t a whole lot of direction and Anthony was just a little at a loss for what to do, not because he didn’t have much of a frame work, but because he was so stupidly excited that he was sure to fall off of the beaten path at this point and disgrace everyone. He’d been taught to ride at an early age, that was no problem, every first knot unclaimed could do it, but it had been awhile since he had been on a horse. Luckily, Loki had ridden off before Anthony could make his first attempt since he ended up sliding on his back foot and nearly falling under the animal’s body.

If it wasn’t for Steven, he might never have properly mounted. “Not a word,” he muttered to his friend as they took off, dagger in his boot. It proved to be instrumental to get through the gates to the inner city, though the outer city didn’t even blink at them as they rode through. Anthony had to keep his eyes down lest he get some ideas and ended up just trotting after Steven as they entered the royal sanctum and were directed to the stables.

The palace was unbelievable already and they were just in the courtyard. Anthony’s heart was almost fluttering with excitement as he slid off of his horse, properly, while one of the stable girls waited for him to hurry it up.

“We’re going to be so lost,” he told Steven as they set up the stairs through the servant’s entry way. No one made too much of a fuss despite their brown tunics, until they tried to get into the prince’s wing of the palace. The dagger wasn’t good enough then. And neither was the game of twenty questions to guards played.

Steven raised himself up to his full height to try and look more imposing, not that it worked when faced with Asgardians, and got that set to his jaw that said he was about to start arguing even if it was incredibly stupid to do so. But he didn't want to fail the very first duty they had been given, they had to find a way into the proper rooms and get the clothing that Prince Loki had ordered them to get.

What useless purchases would they prove to be if they couldn't even do that?

"You have to let us past, we were bought by Prince Loki not two hours ago and he has instructed us to come and be outfitted for his service. You're obstructing his orders, not just us."

The guard reached out and backhanded Steven firmly across the face.

"Learn your place, mortal. The prince would not buy slaves who did not know how to behave, and no word has come to expect you."

Did they really think royal guards would let in possible assassins just because they had a dagger that was of good enough quality to have possibly belonged to one of their princes?

“So… Sure. I’ll just stand around with you and wait. And if one of the princes should see us standing here as we we’re still unclaimed, that’ll work out perfect for everyone, right?” Anthony’s wit was biting. “Or better yet, put us in the dungeons. That’s going to look great for you. And so will bruising the merchandise. He’s Prince Thor’s present for his birthday. I believe Prince Loki is going to be pretty upset if he’s got to give Prince Thor something damaged. But that’s just me as a stupid, foolish mortal. What do you think, Steven?”

The guard ended up searching them in a huff, thorough and somewhat humiliating. Anthony was used to it. The guardians at the unclaimed village outside of Asgard’s walls had some very strict policies. And he’d had his full training besides. He was a little sore at the end of the search, but he was otherwise unharmed. And Steven’s cheek would heal.

At least they were allowed to stay in Loki’s chambers…even if Anthony wasn’t even remotely ready to see what Asgardian splendor could truly look like.

He nearly wept for all of the books and shoved his fingers into the waistband of his tunic. He wanted to touch everything.

Anthony wasn't the only one unprepared for this level of opulence, and not even for the amount of books. The marble surfaces inlaid with gold, the wood that had been buffed to a shine, the bed full of furs that was larger than their whole slave quarters. There were even three bathing pools, one for washing, one for hot water to soak in, and one for cold water to ease tired muscles. This was truly the chamber of royalty, and he had no idea what to do with himself.

"Anthony, I do not see a slave chamber."

He had been through the same lessons as Anthony, and they had been taught that most people who owned personal slaves had an adjoined room to their bedroom that the slave would stay in, so they could be called quickly if needed. But there was none here, Steven even opened all the doors to see, but each were filled with more luxury and decadence.

"What do you suppose will be--"

He was cut off as the door opened and one of the palace slaves came in with a tape measure and gestured to Anthony.

"You need to be fitted, correct? Prince Loki's colours are green, silver, and black; once you've been properly outfitted then you are forbidden from wearing other colours. And you are to be fitted in Prince Thor's colours, and palace colours for just this week."

"Just be mindful that I'm ticklish," Anthony said as he was told to stand up on a small tuffet of green silk trimmed in gold braiding. He lifted his arms once his tunic was removed, having no shame at all in his body. He was shorter than some men, not as thick, and his eyes were almost too large for his face and lined in thick, long lashes, but he wasn't bad to look at. He had no scars and his nails were clean. That was a sign of where he had been raised. The unclaimed slave village was known for its stock after all. There was a reason Loki had gone there first to see what it had to offer him.

The tailor was an older man with wrinkled hands and he made quick work of the tape, a magical book recording every measurement as they were ticked off. "I'll send in one of the domestic slaves to draw you each a butter milk bath. And you will need your hair trimmed," he said to Steven when it was his turn to be measured up. The tailor had to grunt and stretch to get everything perfectly. "Those in service to Prince Thor must have shorn hair for battle."

Asgardians did not usually follow that rule themselves but it was better for their slaves to have the best defenses possible. And that included not having their hair be of grabable length.

He hobbled away ten minutes later, muttering about having basic under tunics sent up within the hour, and closed the door only for that door to reopen with a slam as five women, all Midgardians, bustled in with two large tubs between them.

"In, in. Girls, get ready to scrub," the matron said in her palace colors. "Pay closer attention to the dark haired one. Prince Loki will need him upon return from his ride."

The unclaimed slave village had prepared him for many things. He had been taught to read and write in the languages of Asgard, Vanaheim, and Alfheim; he had been taught to ride, use a variety of weapons, wrestle, and recite long epics. He had also been taught how to give pleasure to both a man and a woman, for some slaves were sold primarily for bed sport, and many owners used their slave for that even if it wasn't their primary purpose.

Never having been raised on Midgard, Steven did not see a problem with this. He had been raised on Asgardian sexual morals, which was that the act was healthy and enjoyable for all to indulge in, not some sacred thing to be kept in the bounds of a marriage bed. He wondered if the buttermilk bath, such an extravagance, was because Loki would want to use Anthony tonight. Maybe him too, to make sure he was up to standard to give to his brother.

Either way, it still felt overwhelming as he sank into the huge tub and allowed the women to scrub at his skin and shave his hair off.

"Are you excited, Anthony?" He murmured to his friend, being chosen was such a big thing, but this was all so much. He was more nervous now than excited himself, the enormity of his situation just hitting him.

Sex was nothing at this point. He'd protested the phallus when he was initially given his second knot but he'd grown to enjoy it well enough. Some of the slaves enjoyed one another too but Anthony had never really been anyone's ideal partner with his mouthiness and so he was a little out of practice. Not that he would mind if Loki wanted to bed him. Actually, it would be a pretty fitting end to the day. That said, he would rather explore a little and learn everything he could about his owner. It would give him a little insight on how best to get out of some of his duties.

Loki had been right about Anthony's chaotic side. He rebelled because he enjoyed rebelling but he knew his place and wanted to be here. He just had to test his bounds.

As the women scrubbed him raw, he blinked up at Steven and the scant bit of hair he was allowed to keep. "Pretty sure I'm about to wake up at any second. This is insane," he said, which made the girls giggle and their matron clap their hands. "What? You guys were probably raised here, right? Parents were palace slaves?"

"Most of us, yes," one girl said shyly. "But I came from Vanaheim with the Lady Frigga as part of her dowry."

Anthony frowned. "You'd have to be really old--"

"You'll come to understand when you taste the apples," she said kindly. "Let me have your foot."

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