fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

"That's amazing."

In two words, Anthony had managed to put every little criticism in his book, written by instructors and guardians, in the truest of lights. He did not kneel and wait to be called upon. He did not use the time to familiarize himself with the room or with the Prince. He just moved right up to the desk to lean over the edge and peer at the project Loki was engrossed in. And what was more, his words didn't stop. Anthony liked to speak. And Loki preferred his quiet.

"Bruce was very insightful. I know my way to the kitchens and the library now." He was proud of that. Boastful. He was looking for praise, or perhaps he just liked to hear his own accomplishments spoken out loud. "Are you doing metal working or magic? Or both? It's beautiful."

In truth, Loki did not mind not being knelt to when they were alone in his chambers, it was an unnecessary affectation that would slow everything down. But if Anthony failed to give proper respect outside of these chambers, Loki would be singularly humiliated and the slave's life would be forfeit before the day was out. But what caused a frown to mar his brow was the way Anthony spoke to him as though they were friends on an equal footing.

The green light disappeared around the metal, leaving it in a twisted and unnatural shape, and engulfed Anthony instead. He would feel the sharp pain of having his lips sewn with magical thread - a significantly lighter pain than if it had been real thread, there was no blood and no permanent damage.

"We are not childhood friends, Anthony," said Loki in a deceptively quiet voice, clear warning an undertone. "We are not equal, and you do not have the right to question me on any of my activities. I do not plan to be a cruel owner, but never doubt that I am your owner and you may not treat me in so casual a manner. Your spirit is interesting, but be wary that spirit does not become arrogance. Have the intelligence to know your place."

Pain didn’t bother Anthony. No one spared him the rod when he was doing something incorrectly. He even assumed that Loki would punish him if he stepped out of line. He just didn’t expect to be reprimanded already. Or cruelly. The words bit at him more than the magical thread meant to keep his mouth shut. He’d never had a childhood friend, Steven aside, who didn’t count because he was friends with everyone, and so Anthony hadn’t realized he was being so familiar.

It was a huge blow to his ego and prompted a moment of defiance, just a moment, a warring behind his eyes, before he knelt and bowed his head. It was a good thing no one else was here to see this. His instructors would likely tisk and whisper that they knew he was no good and ill suited for this life. He’d ruin his chances just as soon as he had them.

The defiance in his soul shifted instead to desire to prove those people wrong. He let this humiliation teach him that it couldn’t happen again. Not with the prince.

He wasn’t sure how to apologize with his mouth magically clamped shut, so he sat back on his heels and just waited, shoulders slumping. He was making a mess of everything. No wonder Odin gave him away as a child.

Loki did not have many friends either. He had his brother, who was the one he could be sure among his peers who loved him truly, and a quiet but solid friendship with Sigyn. But no others. Amora was a wildfire like him, they could not be true friends because they always looked out for their own interests, and nobody else cared enough about him. They fawned over him if they were of low enough status, making out to be friends to gain favour, but they whispered behind his back and reviled magic.

He may have understood Anthony, but that understanding would have to come in time. He was also a very proud creature who knew his own worth and place in the world, and it would take much time to bring him around to the idea of a friendship with what amounted to property just as much as his books were his property.

"I do not require such obeisance as others may demand, but when we are outside these chambers you must show the proper respect. I will not be shamed by your behaviour, and you will not survive my displeasure in that regard. Some questions may be permitted, I enjoy your enthusiasm, but you must learn what is appropriate."

He flicked his fingers and the invisible thread disappeared once more, leaving Anthony's lips free.

"Are these things understood?"

He had been much more lenient than others would be, and he watched Anthony's face for resentment that he had been punished at all, for that would be deadly in a slave. Nobody could do anything with property that did not understand its place.

Resentment? No. Just sheer and unabashed anger turned inwards at himself. He had never had to try for any of this and that scared him now that he wasn’t equipped to be a good servant. Not that he really wanted to be, of course, but he had to work his way up. There was no one better for this experience than Loki and so Anthony needed to step up his game. Bruce had warned him. Fifteen years of instructions at the unclaimed village had warned him. He needed to do something about his stubbornness, quickly, or he would find himself toiling for the dwarves in ways different from his father.

The sharp snap of pain from his lips caused Anthony to lift his fingers towards them before he nodded. Nodding, however, wasn’t going to cut it this time and he immediately followed that up with a: “yes, my Prince,” perhaps two beats off in his timing. He hoped it didn’t show too badly.

Keeping his mouth shut would be a slight problem, but Anthony was tenacious and he would get what he wanted. Hopefully without getting him killed in the process.

Anthony lifted dark eyes to just watch Loki at his elbow but did not attempt to rise.

"I have never had a personal slave before," said Loki, voice soft as he moved from the chair he had been working on to another, more comfortable chair, long legs crossing over one another as he reclined back. "I never wanted the effort, and most slaves are boring. Far better to have my tasks completed by already trained palace property. You had intelligence and a spark of personality, these were the traits that caused me to choose you, but you must know when to temper them."

He knew that he could provide a good life for his slave, even an enjoyable one, but it would take wisdom to learn when certain things were appropriate. He did not yet know if Anthony possessed that wisdom.

"I told you that I would hold leniency for the week until Thor's birth celebration, and I hold true to that. No more will be spoken of this. Rise. Run to the kitchens and the stables, I wish to ride through the night and both food and mounts must be prepared for us both."

Okay. Yes. Anthony took the warning, took the instruction, and took the order as they were intended…to guide and to lay out what might be expected of him. Loki’s admission that he had never taken a personal servant wasn’t new information for Anthony. He’d figured that out already. And that meant that they would be dealing with this together, finding a way to coexist. It put a little more strain on Anthony, but also took some of the burden off because he didn’t have to follow in anyone’s footsteps and he could never be compared to another either.

Save for Bruce, maybe. Anthony decided to spend all of his free time with the other man to learn what he could. It would be perfect. He could just feel it.

“Of course, my prince,” Anthony said, putting a hand to his chest as he had seen others do, bowing, and stepping twice backwards before he turned to leave. He was a little frantic to the kitchen staff, mostly because he couldn’t tell them exactly what he wanted, but instead said he needed food for a full night’s ride, packed away and easy to transport. “For Prince Loki!” he spat at when he was more or less ignored. That got them going. He found himself laden with two baskets of carefully wrapped food and wine that he would pack away into saddle bags at the stable. He even assisted the groom in preparing Loki’s horse…mostly so he could ask for a shorter mount.

He didn’t want to look foolish climbing on it later.

There weren't many shorter mounts, these were the palace stables and so all the stock was of excellent quality. Asgardian mounts were large anyway, not that Anthony would ever have seen the smaller and meeker Midgardian equivalent, and so the horse he ended up with was a large roan mare who pawed the ground impatiently as she was saddled and bridled, the saddlebags being laid across her rump so that Loki's horse remained unencumbered for riding.

By the time these preparations were made, Loki had appeared in the stables dressed in a cloak with his usual leather clothing beneath, and swung himself up into the saddle as though he had been doing as much since he had been born. Which he very nearly had.

"Come along, Anthony, we must be away quickly, we have a long journey and little time to do it in."

He ignored the stablehand who knelt to him, and simply spurred his horse away, relying on Anthony to follow.

At seventeen hands high, the roan mare was probably the shortest of all of the mounts on offer and so Anthony was pretty happy to select that one instead of the twenty-one handers like Loki’s robust, beautiful and sleek steed. He ended up using a paige for a hand up, or rather a shoulder as Anthony climbed up onto his knee and then his shoulder to jump into the saddle. The horse, who likely thought the antics of the slave were amusing, whinnied before she took off after the other horse at a trot.

Anthony didn’t need to do much to ride. The horse knew her place and Anthony was loose as he watched the fine form of his master from just ahead of him. The outline in the late afternoon sun made Anthony smile.

He couldn’t help but be proud of his new lot in life. There was just a little bit of a hiccup but now? Now he had wind in his hair. They would cross out of the gates, not towards the Bifrost but back towards the village. He hoped everyone would see him as they passed.

Anthony may be seen by one or two of the slaves, but they passed the village by quickly. Loki kept up a rapid pace, pushing to a hard gallop for the next five hours as dusk darkened into night and the stars came out. Hard roads devolved into thick dirt tracks as they passed further into the countryside. Eventually Loki turned off the roads altogether, leaping a hedge and disappearing into the treeline to weave amongst the undergrowth of the forest.

Eventually he pulled up beside a pool of clear water so perfect that it stood like a mirror, reflecting the moon and stars with no ripple to mar the surface. He dismounted and left his horse sweating and shaking by the water's edge.

"There are books upon Vanaheim that I wish," he said, finally speaking for the first time since they left the palace stables. "I have been refused by the librarian to take them, and so we must acquire them a different way. Come, kneel beside the water."

One day in and they were already about to do something dangerous. Anthony slid off of his panting horse and left it to pasture by the lake. His bones hurt, he was not used to a ride like that. He ought to have picked a more padded saddle, though it was much too late to worry about that now. He glanced around the moonlit grounds before doing as he was asked. Maybe he shouldn’t be as excited as he was…but he couldn’t help himself. His heart was racing and Anthony wasn’t sure if he could contain the way he felt about all of this.

Loki was utterly perfect. Vanaheim had no right to bar him from anything he wanted and so Loki was going to take what was his. Anything Bruce said about loyalty to the royal family verses Loki was already out of his head.

His loyalty was to Loki. The royal family as a whole sent him back to the unclaimed village after his parents died. There was no question for Anthony on whom it was he served and why.

Anthony wasn’t expecting there to be the amount of discofort there was when Loki opened the space from this Realm to the next. The Void lived up to everything assumed about it, though.

Though Loki could technically pull them onto the branches of Yggdrasil and through the Void from anywhere on any realm, there were some places that were connected. More densely concentrated with seidr than others, making the process easier, and this pool was one such place. He had come here partly because he had another to take along with him, and partly because he had long ago shielded this particular area from Heimdall's gaze.

The journey took them just outside the capital of Vanaheim where the great palace was located. He could not simply take them inside and snatch it, they would detect the magic. This had to be done with more subtlety.

"There will be a Librarian guarding entry and taking note of all who enter the stacks, you must distract her as I pass undetected. You must not go further into the library lest they suspect you of the theft, you must leave when you hear a whistle from without."

Now he would see if the ingenuity he had chosen Anthony for was worth it.

Sneaking around to get preferential treatment (or just out of a chore he didn’t want to do) happened to be Anthony’s greatest asset, outside of his mind. He regarded Loki for a moment before he glanced down at the embossed leather jerkin he was wearing. “I can do all of that for you, my prince, but my clothing might give me away. Do I have permission to wear only the undertunic?” He was Midgardian. Midgardians only had one place. It wasn’t as if Anthony could act as a free citizen of Asgard. There was no such position for him to even attempt it. But he could act as a slave to another.

And he had no trouble making up names and information on the spot.

Indeed, once he had managed to disguise himself a little (mussing his hair up, turning the belt so the unfinished side was visible, pulling his trousers from his fine boots to downplay the braided leather touches, he could almost be unrecognizable. At least as far as the freefolks went. A slave looked like any other and none really looking to closely at them in the first place.

Anthony took the marble edged stairs two at a time and paused just at the edge of the vision of the guard and the clerk at the fine desk. He did his best not to look awestruck at how austere and grand this building was, barely letting himself gaze upon the statuary or the tapestries. He instead made himself look lost. He hemmed and hawed for a moment, wandered up and down the hall to pause at the various doorways, before he finally, and sheepishly went to ask a few very dumb questions of the library keepers.

“My mistress will have me beaten,” he said, softly. “I don’t remember exactly what she sent me to retrieve. Can you… Can you please help? I know the title begins with a history of Jotunheim. Or maybe about the war? Oh, she’s going to do worse than whip me!”

Loki remained outside for a time to listen, altering his form in the manner that only he seemed capable of. Other shapeshifters he knew from Asgard and Vanaheim could only do so with a specific spell, with much effort, but he shifted his form as though it were an ability like breathing, hardly even connected to his magic at all. Like he had been born already able to shift.

Good, Anthony did seem to be able to think well on his feet.

The librarian looked irritated, but more at being pulled from her work than the slave himself. She was used to stupid Midgardians, and she was not so heartless as to want to see him beaten. Though if he could not remember the tomes she wanted, then there was little to be done about it.

"There are many books within about Jotunheim and the last war between Asgard and Jotunheim, many hundreds. You must think harder, boy, or I cannot save you the whipping you'll receive."

She tapped a pen on the carved wooden desk as she waited for him to actually put forth effort.

"Which household have you come from? It may be that their past reading record will enlighten us as to their current field of study or interest."

Anthony knew only the names of those that came through the village from time to time to take a look at the stock. Most never repeated a visit, they didn’t need to since five years was about the same as a blink of an eye for them. The village didn’t receive new chattel all that regularly anymore, likely because it was coming time for a new culling of Midgard to occur so that the population on Asgard didn’t suffer from a lack of genetic diversity.

He rattled off the name of someone who had nearly taken his papers and book when he was eleven, but ultimately chose another the following day and sent a newly washed and primped Anthony back to the bunk he already spent seven years in, and where he would spend another nine. He didn’t hold such ill will as to use a name in vain, but…yeah, actually, he did. He was supposed to be a playmate and servant for that household’s youngest.

He still didn’t know why he was returned.

“If you could just show me a few titles…I might be able to point out… Oh! That one-- Yes, and that one mentions the title of another tome… Could I see the ledger a little more closely…?”

The name mentioned belonged to a wealthy family, not one of the nobility, but a skilled craftsman who had risen to the top of his industry and now employed many people beneath him. His wife, four daughters, and six sons were all members of the same business, and so it was easy to find the wife's name, for she had been the name given, in the ledger to find what she had written.

"Of course you may not. These are private papers, not for the eyes of slaves. I will read you any titles which pertain to Jotunheim and you may tell me if these help your piecemeal memory."

She began to read off a long list of boring titles, some of which were histories of Jotunheim, some were fanciful tales of their legends, some were about the Frost Giants themselves as a species, more than a few about the war. Lucky for Anthony, the ruined Jotunheim was a popular topic of study, as the war was still relatively recent for most on Vanaheim and Asgard, only just a thousand years ago.

Anthony would only have to listen to about fifteen titles before a low whistle came from outside, tuneful and brief.

Anthony allowed three more names to be read to him before he slowly bowed his head. “They all seem familiar,” he said with a sigh and glanced up at the doorways’ grand arches because he did truly wish to go inside, and sighed wistfully. That was not an act. “I think I’m going to have to take my punishment. Thank you for your kindnesses,” he said, placed a hand over his heart, and left. He did not move quickly. To run now might make it seem as if he was trying to flee.

He arrived by Loki’s side, around the corner from the building, with a faint smile. He assumed without asking that he had been successful, though he looked proud for his part in it and immediately flipped around his belt and gratefully accepted his jerkin back. Even if he struggled to put it on. The tightness of leather was not something he was familiar with and it showed as he took a deep breath to finally pull it down over his chest.

Today had been rife with strangeness. It had been dark and moonlit on Asgard but it was only at the last stages of dusk on Vanaheim. Anthony had never been to another realm before and he took a moment to take it all in.

Loki was grinning widely, the expression lighting up his face and making green eyes glitter in the darkness. He held out a slender book bound in red leather for Anthony to see the spoils of their victory, before he slid it into his own tunic for safekeeping. He would not allow any hands but his own to touch these pages until he had absorbed everything he could from it.

"You have done well, Anthony, this will not be forgotten."

Anthony would need to learn that Loki was mercurial and so were the shifts in his temper and temperament. He was swift to punish, but also swift to reward, and he valued those who did not condemn him for what he saw as petty indiscretions.

"Come, we must away from Vanaheim swiftly before we are discovered, but I shall bring you to see the Free Markets as a reward before long."

Though he had only heard of the Free Markets before, and he had no way of knowing just how truly splendid they were, Loki’s promise of reward was more than enough for Anthony’s eyes to grow like saucers. “I’m happy to serve you, my prince,” he said, though he was also happy to be recognized. Loki didn’t give him specific praise, but in Tony’s head, he absolutely had. It had been astounding to be simply told he’d done well.

Normally, it was everyone else that was singled out. Anthony usually just opened to be overlooked because if his name was mentioned, it was generally in conjunction with some misdeed, mischief, or lack of attention.

Though he was not at all looking forward to the return trip, travel by Loki's brand of magic was very rough, and he was honestly exhausted after today, he hoped that the ride back to Asgard would be relaxing. The horses seemed to know where they were going and maybe Anthony could get a bit of shut eye on the way so that he would be more than capable of serving his master come morning.

If Anthony believed himself capable of sleeping on horseback, then Loki would not stop him as long as his slave kept up. Though neither would he rouse him even when they reached the stables, it was not his duty to act as an alarm for his property, and so Anthony may well find himself being shaken out of it by a stablehand and sent on his way quickly.

The few days following passed by quickly and without other major incident.

Loki spent much of his time engrossed in his new book, occasionally sending Anthony for food or to gather certain items or ingredients for things that he wanted. He was not cruel, however, and he allowed his mortal time to rest and even some leisure time to tinker with his metal parts. Though he trusted that during this time that Anthony also took time to learn his duties more thoroughly.

The sun had scarcely risen on the sixth day when Loki rose from his bed and simply spoke an order, for it was Anthony's duty to be there to hear it no matter the time of day or night.

"Fetch Steven, it is the day of my brother's birth celebration and I would present him to Thor before he becomes too drunk to know if he is being given a slave or a pig."

Though Anthony's days had been spent happily, even if Loki more or less ignored him, he found himself himself fast friends with Bruce and he saw Steven daily for lessons. He was working as hard as he could to be perfect, which was probably a first for Anthony, and Steven noticed.

He was also bound to notice when someone joined him in his sizable bed in an alcove off of the slave quarters. Everyone here had their own little nugget of space, bigger than the village's but not as large as Anthony's space.

Anthony laid his head on Steve's shoulder and waited for the man to stir beneath him.

"Prince Loki wants you," Anthony said, yawning.

"What?!"

Steven sat bolt upright immediately, hit his head on the ceiling, and practically fell out of his tiny bed searching for his clothing. He couldn't believe that Anthony was just lying there like he had all the time in the world, the man really had settled into his position well.

"How long ago did he send you? Did he say why?"

Oh Odin's Beard, what if he'd done something to displease the Prince? What if he'd ruined his chances of being given to Prince Thor?!

Luckily, Steven pitching forward meant that Anthony was able to roll to the wall. He laid there in his green and gold tunic, ankles crossed, and propped himself up on his elbows as Steven dressed. "He only just sent me. He wants to gift you before the feast so that Prince Thor isn't in his cups."

They had some time. Anthony ran the whole way there without even stopping to say hello to Bruce in his nice little room across the hallway.

"Don't rush to dress. You're going to look too eager. Or... I don't know. Frumpled. Is that a word? Is now. You have to look your best. But the tailor passed me on the hall with a big package so you might be getting some new clothing. I hope you like leather better than I do."

Steven's face lit up in a smile that made him look too perfect. His hair even looked good shaved right down, a light dust of blond over a well shaped head, and his blue eyes sparkled. He was so excited, he'd get to be given over to the Prince and hopefully, if he pleased him, maybe he'd be given tasks of importance. He didn't expect to be Prince Thor's personal slave, everyone knew that Prince Thor already had a personal slave, but maybe he'd get some task that he could prove himself in.

Please let him prove himself.

He leaned down and gave Anthony a one-armed hug, excitement too much to hold in, before he began to pull his clothing on again. Taking care that each part was where it should be, that he was clean, and everything turned out properly.

"Look at us now, Anthony, would we ever have believed we'd belong to the princes?"

"I believed that you would be," Anthony said. He didn't want to say where he imagined himself in a scant two months when he was given his fourth knot and sent off to the general auctions. He didn't expect to be bought by an Asgardian. Not even a peasant farmer. No. Anthony was sure he'd be shipped off world and worked to death a year later. But that's what happened. He was prepared for it. This whole thing was almost too much for him.

He climbed out of bed as Steven laced up his black boots and followed him out of the room. Bruce explained that to Anthony on his third day. Slaves had to follow hierarchy here. Prince Thor's slaves went first. And then Prince Loki's. The only difference was the ranking of the slaves. Anything under Thor's personal enclave would come after Loki's personal enclave--

It was strange and hard to remember. Anthony wasn't used to being given deference. And yet he let Steven walk just a shoulder ahead. He was pretty sure he would have to get used to that. Steve wouldn't stay an underling for long.

Back to Loki's room, Anthont lightly knocked the way Loki showed him to quietly announce his presence before he went in, not waiting to be told he was allowed. It was understood he would be. "My prince, your gift is here."

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