fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

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.

Could he ride? Well he didn't have a choice. This was Loki's mount and he wasn't going to be happy should he ever come back to see it just left here. Oh, that made his stomach ache worse, to be a disappointment on top of everything else.

No matter how much pain he was in, no matter how far from the Capital they were, Anthony was going to ride this creature back home, brush him down, and wait in Loki's cold chambers for him to return.

The letter, however, was welcome. He just couldn't read it in the darkness, but there was a bright fire close by. "Give it. The letter. And then we'll go home."

He wondered if Bruce's look was because the man understood what it was like to be cast out of service. Or if that was just pity.

Bruce had never been out of service, the look of pity was because he understood what it was to be violated. He had spent a long time coming to terms with the fact that it had been abuse, and that a slave could be hurt in those ways. It hurt him to have to see someone else going through the same thing. He considered saying no, getting Anthony back to the palace, but he could see the poor man was on his last legs.

So he handed over the letter. It was written on fine parchment and sealed with magic that only opened to Anthony's touch, the handwriting Loki's familiar neat loops.

Dearest Anthony,

I must leave for Jotunheim, a realm within which you could not survive. I do not relinquish ownership of you, though, you are mine. Never forget this. I will be working on a spell to allow you to endure the cold and will return for you, do not doubt this.

Until then, I place you under the care of Bruce. Work well for him. Stay safe.

Loki.

Giving Anthony his letter was the best thing that Bruce could have done for him and it left him feeling lighter, freer. He did not want to be Frigga's. The Queen had enough to serve her and he would be lost and unwanted. The work would not be satisfying and he had learned early on that it was all he really wanted in life...to not only be stimulated with ideas, but to be allowed to work them out. He didn't necessarily have a desire to make any better, but he certainly had a desire to create. Loki allowed that. He was sure no one else in this Realm would.

Carefully folding up the note, Anthony stuck it back into his jerkin and nodded to Bruce. "I'm to serve you until he comes for me," he said by way of explanation, determination pure and clear on his face. He stalwartly climbed onto the mount, but if the palace was any more than half a day's ride, Anthony would be unable to continue.

He might be infused with the power of the orchard, but he was still only a Midgardian.

Just as Loki had Anthony's loyalty, Anthony had earned his master's complete loyalty when he had seen the blue skin of a Jotun and still treated him the same. Loki would never relinquish him now, he would be a treasured slave in the way that James had been, held above all others and given many privileges and freedoms that other slaves would only dream of.

But that would have to wait until he returned.

Bruce waited patiently until Anthony finished the letter, relief that it clearly said something good making his shoulders sag a bit. Though a small frown of confusion marred his brow.

"You can't serve me, I'm another slave, and I can't take you on in the household without permission from the All-Mother, All-Father, or one of the head servants."

"Then get permission," Anthony said with the same cocky attitude he always had. "Or I'll have to spend all of my time being completely useless and sitting in my room until the Prince returns." It was what he was supposed to do. "Tell Queen Frigga what Loki told you. That you're supposed to take care of me," he insisted. "She'll allow it."

Anthony wasn't going to take no for an answer anyway. And Bruce should really have learned by now that the stubborn young Midgardian was not used to being told no anyway. Not even Loki denied him, though Anthony never asked for much. They had formed a particularly symbiotic pair and Anthony served without instruction just as Loki rewarded without requesting. It was rare to find bonds so strongly.

Save, perhaps, for Odin and Anthony's father....and Prince Thor with the one he'd lost.

Bruce didn't know if they would be so accommodating to any request coming from Anthony and, by proxy, from Loki given the current climate in the palace. But he would do his best, and Queen Frigga was the most likely to be disposed to grant a request made like this. Anthony might find that the work was harder and less stimulating in the palace, though, for he would not be allowed special dispensation without his master present.

Unfortunately they wouldn't make it all the way back to the palace before Anthony would have to get off his horse and rest, the saddle wasn't kind to someone who had suffered his kind of injuries. Bruce was sympathetic and gentle as he got the camping gear out and offered his companion some food.

"Do you want to discuss it?"

"My change of lifestyle? Not really. I'm not looking forward to folding sheets or cleaning pots and pans," Anthony said, grateful that Bruce signaled a rest. The others that had been liberated were grateful as well and with the shelter of an under hang and a river a few paces away, it was the perfect place to bed down, even with the sun newly risen. The shade was plentiful.

Anthony used one of the bandit's bedrolls to hunker down on, carefully turned to rest on his right hip, facing Bruce.

"Or do you need me to dust books and old parchment for you? Clear up your pens of clotted ink?" Yes he was deflecting, but he had no intention of discussing any of this. Not with anyone. He just wanted to heal cleanly before Loki came for him.

Bruce sat down on his own bedroll, pulled a little way from the other slaves who were either isolating themselves to try and sleep, or comforting one another as best they could. Though he felt for all of them, his attention was on Anthony, and he didn't have the energy to focus on more people than that right now.

"When I was a small child, my father and his owner used me in that manner. For many years. It was only discovered when my father killed our owner, and royal forces found me in the basement of the home. Odin All-Father took me on as his own and allowed me to heal, for which I'm grateful."

He told the story in a completely matter of fact way, the pain had healed a long time ago, he was stronger for it.

"I'm telling you that I understand."

Anthony's eyes widened slightly, but he had little words for the other man. Bruce was a good guy, but nothing like what happened to him was what happened to Anthony. It wasn't a violation on his part. None of the perpetrators were Midgardian...and certainly none were related to him.

"I'm... I never knew." Stupid to say, so stupid, because how could he possibly have known? Anthony wanted to put his boot in his mouth for that.

And he also wanted to lean over and smack Bruce for being able to tell that he'd been hurt in that way. If Bruce, of all people, could tell just by a glance... Anthony had no hope of healing properly. Loki would know. He would be damaged. When he came back for him, he'd be cast out into the cold of Jotunheim to freeze.

And serve him right. He should have fought harder...

But how could a Midgardian beat the strength of the Aesir?

It was no excuse.

"Nothing happened to me, though, Bruce. Nothing that wasn't par for the course. I mean, I was captured. Stupid. I let myself be captured when I was on an important mission."

Bruce disagreed. He considered the way he had been forced by their Aesir owner to be a violation as well, but he understood that it was the Asgardian tradition to subjugate through sexual violence as well as physical violence. Many captured enemies were treated in this way, and to find runaway slaves or recaptured slaves dealt with that was was not unusual.

It still angered him greatly, something he tried not to show for Anthony's sake.

"Being captured is no shame, and what happened to you was not your fault. I know that you are afraid of being seen as lesser in the eyes of others for it, but you are not."

He didn't know if his words would actually sink in. Probably not. He had seen more than one slave violated, fret for weeks about their masters finding out, and then be summarily dismissed, cast out without an owner, when it was discovered.

And that was much of the problem. Anthony had seen it happen too. Some of the issues brought before the court revolved around ownership. How many times had brothers come into the throne room at each ofher's throats over a slave? It was the Midgardian that always suffered after that, because no matter who won the right to him or her, their master would still look upon them as marred by another. Dismissed slaves tended to fall under palace protection for a time until they could be sold off or given to poor farmers, who worked those slaves into ash.

Anthony wasn't angry about his potential lot. It didn't matter to him if he was killed. But if Loki no longer wished for him, his heart would break.

He'd been about to roll his eyes at Bruce when those final words hit him square across the face. Tears collected behind his eyelids, unshed.

"You of all people know how fickle Loki is. He won't want me. It doesn't matter if I am at fault or not. He won't want me, it's that simple." Just admitting it outloud left his lower lip trembling. "Fifty years is no time at all. I barely was allowed to love him. And I can't take it back. I can't take their hands off of me. I'm ruined. I'll be ruined in his eyes and you and I both know that."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

i have hearing aids now! help me, Jeni, the world is way too loud haha

Turn them down! BUT YAY!

no subject

no subject