fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

Loki did not know how to feel. Thor obviously hurt, obviously blamed all of them for keeping a secret so large; and yet he did not spurn Loki or call him monster, did not even deny him as brother. He watched contemplatively for a few minutes as they rode further ahead, before he broached the subject.

"I must know your mind and heart on this."

He did not often ask for Thor's counsel. But this was an exceptional circumstance, and one that could lead to the breaking of their little family.

"You are ever my brother, if not of my blood, but I have another family. Other brothers, other parents. Does this not change anything between us?"

"Of course it does," Thor said, boisterous tone deadened. "But I never questioned which if the brothers I have had knowledge of might steal you from my side and I have not felt lessened these last few years of your affection because you have discovered another handful. You have known me for your entire life, less two days, they have known you barely to your majority. I can not claim to be jealous of that."

The horses walked beside one another gracefully, long legs trotting in time, tails occasionally brushing one another like knuckles of the hands of lovers moving down a hall.

"But I too know that while I have your affection, I have not always had your love. I pushed you to finding this other side of yourself. And if you speak truth, you have dealt with knowing this all alone for a century. So now I ask what is on your mind, Loki? Will you leave us now that you have revealed yourself?" Thor had other you get brothers and he was at times even close to Baldur, but Loki was his favourite. And losing him would crush his heart.

Thor did not even think to speak of monsters. That was not what was at stake.

Loki had considered this over many hours of soul searching, for he did not truly belong on either realm. His heritage, his magic, his blood were on Jotunheim, but his upbringing and his heart were on Asgard, but he could not split his time between the two. Thor had shot down the notion of an alliance, and how could he go from subjugated realm to ruler and back?

"I do not know."

At least he was honest this time, he knew when a lie would damage things further.

"I do not want to abandon either half of myself, but I do not see how I can keep both. You are my brother, as Frigga is my mother, far more than any other could be. I would not lose the opportunity to rule beside you and counsel you in years to come. But I cannot hide, I cannot be a vassal to my own brother. I do not know, Thor. Know only this, I cannot leave Jotunheim the shell it is now. Too much of me is connected to the land there, the magic."

“Our father had to have saved you for a reason,” Thor said, remembering the tale his brother told the night before. “I do not mean to diminish his heroics in the saving of a single child, nor to downplay what his thoughts might have been upon seeing an infant left in the cold, but he surely meant for you to be more than just my brother. He named you second in line, over his natural sons. You were not sent away to grow up happily with Tor and Baldur on Vanaheim,” he pointed out. “Perhaps he knew you to be a balm. Perhaps our mother saw your greatness-- Loki, do not make an decision until all has been discussed. There must be a happy ending to this. I will not lose you.”

And yet, despite the kind words, Thor could not look at Loki. He found it difficult to view him in Jotnar skin, to see it shift in deep blues with the crisscross of white under the strong sun. It was just another sign of physical betrayal.

He told Loki everything. Loki alone knew how he’d felt of James. Loki alone knew of many of his conquests to other Realms or his exploits when he was an adventurous youth. And it seemed as if Loki did not need him to share these things with. It was hurtful. Thor was not easily hurt and yet Loki always knew where to shove in the knife.

Thor's words were kind, even gentle. This was why Loki both loved and detested his brother, the innocence and naivety to think things would be all right, to think that there would be a solution that would end in them being happy together, was so foolish as to almost be blind. It scared him that someone with this lack of ability to face terrible truths would sit on the throne one day.

He loved his brother dearly, but he did not want Asgard to fall.

Loki opted to stay silent until they reached the walls of Asgard once more, setting the hood of his cloak well over his head despite the heat in order to disguise his Jotun skin from anyone watching. He could change back to himself, but he refused to relinquish the Casket and that would give his secret away too easily.

"Come, it seems the time has come to face the truth of decisions made long ago."

“Come in through the back entry,” Thor said, though he was not sure if Loki would take that as a slight. Sometimes his brother’s anger was justifiable, but sometimes he just misunderstood and flew off the handle with little provocation. Thor hoped that this would not trigger anything. He and Loki often used the royal entry way to avoid a ride through the city and this would give them a little more privacy. It was not yet dusk, after all. Thor nudged his horse with his knees, nodding to the guards, but did not look to see if Loki was coming with him.

Truthfully, Thor hoped for a bit of a squabble here. He didn’t want to go into the palace yet and face his mother, or the fact that the All-Father’s throne stood empty and ready for him.

He wanted to set his tent up right here and enjoy more time with his Steven, rather than plan for the pyre of James. Something he would need to do secretively since Midgardians were buried, not set ablaze. His antics were more jerky, less subdued as they trotted on, but he could not put this off forever.

Once inside the walls of the city, and then the walls of the palace, it all became very real for him and Thor inhaled deeply to settle himself. His life had changed in the span of one day. He lost James in the morning, lost his freedom by afternoon, and now potentially was about to lose his brother by evening. He was a strong man, but strength could only get him so far.

Frigga would be the first to join them and her pale peach robes made Thor recall many times he and Loki tried to sneak back into the palace after some misdeed. He felt small, even in armour.

Frigga's heart had been aching since her boys left, since her youngest took what he claimed was a birthright and disappeared. She could not protect him from the truth any longer, and she regretted the choices that she and her husband had made. Loki had always been more sensitive, more willing to see the slights in others, and this could be the breaking of him.

To see him return with Thor instead of with an army of Frost Giants was her first relief, and she could not help but embrace first one and then the other of her sons, wiping a dirty smear from Thor's forehead and being careful not to touch Loki's skin where he still wore the mantle of a son of Laufey.

"It lifts my heart to see both of my sons beside one another, even after all that has happened. Come, sit with me, and speak your hearts."

“How is Father?” That was the most pressing question, no matter what else needed to be said. Thor’s voice caused the air to vibrate as it did when he was upset or angry. Emotion always got the best of him. It was something that carried beyond Mjolnir, a magic linked more to his natural mother than his father. His talents were innate, and while Mjolnir channeled them, he could not exactly control them. It was also one of those overlooked aspects of who he was. No one tormented him the way they did Loki. He could not help the storms that sometimes came unbidden as Loki could usually help his more chaotic issues.

Frigga’s face fell briefly. “There is no change. He will be as he is when you are ready to see him. There is little rush. His condition is not yet widely known. Unlike, may I say, the heroics you and a Jotun Sorcerer that had been spreading through the city?”

It seemed like more trickery. Thor did not sit, his shoulders throwing themselves back. “How is it word has already reached the capital? How is it there is word at all of a Jotun?”

Frigga’s smile was strange, but Loki might pick up that she herself may have been the cause of the talk. “The importance is that the news is being well received. Lauded, even.” And there was also whispers of fear, but Thor was a grounding factor. “It is believed that the joining of Asgard with Jotunheim was the only reason no more than three villages were destroyed by the fire giant invaders.”

Loki felt a warm rush of affection to his mother, only she would have had the forethought to spread rumours that painted him in a positive light. Though his affection was tinged with sorrow, for he did not believe that any amount of temporary goodwill would ever make the people of Asgard accept a prince with Jotun blood. Other mingling of blood was acceptable, even lauded, but to have a child from a mortal enemy in such a position of power would surely not be allowed.

"I doubt that it is being universally enjoyed, and there is little point behind such talks, for Thor refuses to counsel the possibility of an alliance between our realms."

Oh, her sons. Her silly, precious, headstrong sons. Frigga's expression softened into sympathy, she would not promise the impossible.

"I am sure he did not discount vassalage. There is no shame in such a state, nor will the Aesir look down on those loyal to them. I am of Vanaheim, am I not? Yet all Aesir see me as Queen."

She knew it was different, she knew that Vanaheim and Asgard had long ties of friendship, but Loki needed to see that he was not about to become the enemy. Never the enemy. She would not have him driven to the arms of Laufey-King and his poison.

Thor did not quite roll his eyes, but he did stare at his brother as if he had said something truly ridiculous. “I will be All-Father temporarily,” he snorted. “I will not make such a large decision when I will barely feel the throne beneath me,” he shot back.

It was enough that Frigga held up a hand to stop him from making it rain upon them all. It was such a lovely day and why ruin the weather because of a spat? “Come Loki, you must admit that there is wisdom to that.” Her tone also spoke that, perhaps, leaving Thor in charge was not exactly ideal anyway and it was best if he did not make many decisions at all. She loved her eldest intensely, but she knew he wasn’t exactly ideal at the moment. He was untested. He needed to take his position seriously. Odin was twice his age when he took the throne and even then, it had almost been a disastrous several centuries to listen to her husband’s mother. “Now Thor, please, sit.”

She offered her hand again and reluctantly, Thor joined her on the step. The sound over the wall of the returning armies made him sigh. He could not dally here forever, but perhaps he could for just a while longer. “My brother wishes equality. And that is impossible. Equality comes only with station. Asgard must always rule. But Jotunheim is not a threat. It is crippled. If we offer them vassalage, it may cause Vanaheim to distrust us. They suffered heavily during the war.”

Frigga sighed. “Your histories were written by old Aesir with political agendas. Vanaheim did not suffer so and would gladly accept Jotunheim back into the fold. Listen less to your advisors and more to your people. That is your first lesson as All-Father.”

Loki felt a slight sting that his mother had not backed him up in needing to feel equal, needing to feel as though both sides of him had equal station. Perhaps that was alright for her, Vanaheim was well respected and she was from a family only second to Odin's own in status, of course she was accepted as Queen here. Her love, it seemed, had its limits, and those were the borders of Jotunheim.

It wasn't fair and it wasn't right, but Loki was very rarely fair when his feelings were wounded. He stayed back from where Frigga sat beside Thor, clutching the Casket tightly in his hands, cloak thrown back to reveal the blue skin to her for the first time in all its glory.

"Then you may argue among yourselves who may make Jotunheim bend knee, but I will not await the pleasure of being told that I must also count myself vassal to my own family."

He took a step backwards.

"The land of my birth has been wounded for too long, I intend to set this right."

Frigga stood, a wind causing her skirts to flow around her ankles. “There is no shame. My own family bends. And the family you have newly discovered in Jotunheim will learn to bend to you. But you? You are my son. I raised you and weened you, Loki. You are Jotnar the way that Thor is Valkyrie. In birth, in affinity to Seidr, in biology, but not in name and not in deed. You are both mine. I will not have you take this from me, grown to your majority or not.”

It was rare, almost foreign, for Frigga to edge into this particular stance. She was always calm and nurturing and motherly. Even when he and Loki had stolen a cask of dwarven ale, or had accidently eaten a feast comprising of a prized pig of a vassal leader on Vanaheim, she had never yelled at them.

She’d never raised her voice.

Thor was wary, but he stood up slowly behind her, watching Loki, and looking like he might tackle Frigga. Thor might have spent five hundred years teasing and picking on Loki as all brothers are wont to do with siblings, but he was very protective over the boy-turned-man.

Loki understood his mother in the way that she understood him, a careful affinity for one another that came from sharing gifts that most others didn't care to see or learn more of. He knew that her ire came from a place of fear, she truly was frightened to lose her family, lose her son. A part of him wished to fall into her arms as he had done as a small child and promise that she would not.

But he was no child any longer, he was grown to his majority, and he would not bend his knee to anyone. His pride would not allow it, his sense of self worth too fragile to withstand obeisance to another. So he took a step back and gripped the Casket tighter.

"I am not your son," he hissed, the words vehement and covering his own grief and fear. "I will not bend knee to any who carry the name Odinson, I will not debase myself for the ego of another. I am returning to Jotunheim, send for me should you wish to discuss alliance. Otherwise, pray that you do not see me again, for I shall not behave kindly in the future."

It broke his heart to turn away, Frigga would surely see it for she knew the heart of her youngest like no other. He did it anyway.

Being seated upon the throne was misery. Steven at his side, standing far enough away to be inconspicuous and close enough to come immediately if needed, Thor still felt alone. He pictured James laughing at the emptiness, a jest to cheer him up. Or Loki leaning down to whisper in his ear. But he felt abandoned. He still saw the blue creature who had filled his brother with a new found rage and worth disappear. James was still in stasis in the healing halls. His mother had gone off to tend to Odin in his sleep. His friends were taking their new duties with the army very seriously--

Thor slouched. He needed to call a second in command to Asgard now that Loki had abandoned it, but he did not want to. He kept hoping his brother would reappear, but he didn't. Not even his slave was skulking around to spy and report back, or to visit with his new personal slave.

It didn't matter much to Thor where that slave had gone. And with Loki on Jotunheim hoping for Thor to call him back with fealty, he likely had forgotten Anthony for the moment as well. It wasn't as if he could go to Jotunheim anyway. He'd die quickly there.

And so he would wait, much like Thor, though far less comfortably, with the bandits that had captured him.

By the time Loki had been on Jotunheim for two nights, he knew that his choice was the wrong one. But by then, it was far too late, and a veil lay over Jotunheim to hide their doings from even the most powerful of sorcerers. It troubled Frigga deeply, she wished to see her youngest, she wished to know what Laufey-King did now that the Casket was back on Jotunheim, but she could see none of it.

These were not problems she could take to her son, though he sat on the throne, she must wait for her husband to wake. She spoke to him often, pleading with him to open his eye and take the throne once more.

Amongst all this turmoil, it turned out that only Bruce noticed that Anthony was missing, and that because he had received some orders not too long since from Prince Loki to watch out for his slave should anything happen. He did not often go into the field any longer in fear of his own beserker rage, but he had little choice when the days passed and still Anthony did not appear.

It would be eight days before he rode into the middle of the bandit's clearing, seeing Anthony tied nearby, and sighed as if tired and irritated rather than facing a whole clearing full of dangerous men and women.

"Could we please do this without fighting? I've come for the Midgardian slave, that's all, you can keep whatever else you've stolen."

One could not rape a slave. One could beat them and use them and force them to do all sorts of things, but that was usual treatment. No slave believed themselves capable of being violated, or so that was how it was supposed to be in theory. In practice, however, it was a different matter.

Anthony had been stripped of his jerkin days before. The fine leather was worth a great deal and the bandits did not understand the symbol well enough of believe Anthony at all when confronted with who his owner had been. His hair had been shorn and he wore bruises from having to be told twice to fetch water or prepare meals. He was not the only slave tied to the pole, all slaves in this camp were to keep them from running away, all were the property of others, mostly farmers who these bandits had killed.

They were headed to one of the outlying slaving markets to sell the lot, but not before each had been tested. Some more than once. It was unfortunate that Anthony was small and good looking. For. Midgardian.

The sentry, a tall blonde Aesir, laughed at Bruce as he approached. "I think perhaps we shall add you to our collection."

Bruce knew that it was possible to abuse a slave, however the culture decided that it was not possible. He knew, because he had experienced it, and he felt for the slaves tied to that pole. Some would manage to get through this and live productive lives, some wouldn't. Unfortunately for most of them, his attention was only on one.

He looked small and unassuming, even shy, as he slid down from his horse and pushed his hands into the long coat that he wore, a gift from Odin himself after years of faithful and diligent service.

"If you touch me, I will kill you all. That doesn't have to happen. That one," he said, pointing at Anthony. "He's who I've come for."

The sentry seemed to have a good laugh about that one. "Tell me, little Midgardian, will you do to us whatever you did to the owner of thst fine coat?" It made the others laugh as well, and Anthony, who had been hoping that Bruce would be with his Master, let his head hit the back of the pole when he saw it was only the older slave. Shit. Well there went his chances.

A few other Asgardians gathered around, though none had bothered to grab their weapons. Why bother when they were naturally stronger than a mortal like this, even without a constant supply of apples?

"You should try to run," a big man with his nose pierced said.

"We like it when they run," another with a shaved pate agreed.

"Or just give us that coat and sit by the pole if you want to live longer than five minutes!"

Bruce did take off the coat, but only because he didn't want to ruin it. He folded it nearly and laid it across the saddle of his horse, as if he had all the time in the world and as if he were in no danger at all. His large brown eyes, reflected in the firelight, looked sad and tired.

"I'm not going to run. I'm asking you to please untie that slave I've pointed out and let us leave, nobody needs to get hurt here today."

He didn't want to become that thing again.

Berserker blood was rare in all the race, it truly transformed someone into something unstoppable. Midgardian he may be, but somewhere in his past he had other blood in his veins, and that made him nearly impossible to kill.

The bandits figured out halfway through the fight, when half of them laid dead and torn to pieces, that they no longer wished to be part of this. Some fled. Others tried to restore whatever honour they felt that they had and rushed headlong at Bruce. Some tried to take what spoils they could before they ran.

There would be tales for years about this night, the fire crackling and catching in fresh blood.

Still tied to the pole, most of the slaves were in tears or begging... For both life and death. Anthony was quiet, wide eyed and mouth agape as he stared up at the berserker. "Okay... So... You've been hiding something from me I see... Gotta tell you, Bruce, this does nothing to put me off."

The trouble with the berserker rage was that it was difficult to find himself again from it, he was just as capable of killing friend as well as foe. It was easier if he chose to go into it, rather than it being triggered unexpectedly, but it still wasn't an exact science.

Many of the slaves tied to the pole began screaming when he approached, his gait and body language reeking of mindless predator. He seemed more like a terrifying bilgesnipe on the rampage than a real person right then. He stopped in front of Anthony and ripped his chains away with one hand as though they were nothing.

"Quiet."

It was a grunted plea, he needed silence to come back to himself.

Anthony never did 'quiet' well, but this time he did as he was told. He let Bruce have his moment. He let Bruce calm himself, if that was even possible, and he tried instead to keep the others with him as silent as possible. "We need to get everything we can. Horses, goods... And shh..." He whispered this with a finger to his lips as he located the horse Loki had given him to ride and found his jerkin, a little bloody, on the body of one of the bandits thst did not make it. He kicked it twice in anger. This one had been particularly violent and Anthony was still very tender and scarred from his knife. Literal and figurative.

He exhaled slowly after all of Loki's items were found and encouraged the other slaves to stay close. He could perhaps find them new owners in the city or at the palace. It was the best case scenario here.

After he waited for Bruce to calm down so he could hug him.

He just wanted to go home to Loki. But he was no longer sure Loki would care to touch him now.

Bruce finally managed to calm himself down and feel confident enough in himself to let the other slaves loose, hands trembling and head pounding the way it always did after he let himself go like that. He could smell the blood, feel the stickiness on his hands, and it made him feel sick. He hated himself in that moment.

Needing something else to focus on pretty quickly, he turned to see if Anthony had finished gathering up all his belongings. The poor man was moving slowly and painfully, he had obviously taken the brunt of the needs of these bandits, and Bruce felt for him that way. The best he could offer was some small words of comfort.

"Prince Loki is gone, but he left instructions for me to find you and care for you in his absence. He prizes you dearly."

It had been quite touching, he had rarely seen anyone make contingency for if they had to go away and leave a slave behind.

Loki left. The ice that came over him was almost laughable considering his Master's true nature, but he felt it acutely, filling his veins and latticing across his arms and face.

Anthony felt his stomach give out completely as he gripped the bridle of his mount as if afraid that his knees would be next. The words he choked out came in whispers. "He said he was about to do something... That I was to consider myself the Queen's..." There was no time for tears. Not in front of Bruce. He had to be stronger than that. Once the flood gates were open, they would never close. He'd been abandoned before. It was not a new feeling, but one that he had never thought he'd feel again and so he had nearly forgotten it. This was just so much harder to take than when he had been but a child. "Did he pass to Valhalla, Bruce?" Anthony thought he would have felt it somehow if it was true. "Is he marked traitor and imprisoned? Tell me."

This was a burden he could not bear without answers. A slave was only as good as their master. He was adrift. Even if Bruce had come to care for him, even if Loki set up that provision, even if Anthony lusted for the older slave, it wasn't the same.

Edited 2017-06-01 11:08 (UTC)

"I do not know the exact nature of his departure, only that he is still counted among the living. He argued, I believe, with his Mother and brother, and felt himself no longer welcome in Asgard. I have a letter penned by his hand before he left, he charged me to place it in your hand. I don't know what it says, but it might explain more."

He didn't produce the letter yet, just watching Anthony in concern first to make sure that he wasn't about to collapse sideways with the news, or with the ordeal that he had suffered these past few days.

"Do you think yourself able to ride behind me? I can give you the letter when we are returned to Asgard."

Though Bruce had no idea what was in the letter, he hoped it would not destroy Anthony completely. Over the last fifty years he had become very fond of the younger man.

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