fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

Give it another couple of hundred years and Steven might start to unwind properly, but he still felt keenly the position of being the personal slave to Prince Thor himself. He was very fond of his master, though, and his warmth and personality shone through in odd moments like this where he grinned at the prospect of being given the choice of what to do, rather than protest that it wasn't his place to decide.

"May we swim, my prince?"

Steven loved to swim. All slaves were taught all the basic skills needed, but there were no lakes or rivers in easy reach of the capital, and so swimming had been done enough to learn and not for pleasure. He had adored it, though. Sun on his bare skin, the silky feel of the water, battling the way the flow of the water wanted to take him.

And to swim with his master, to see his powerful body naked in the water, would not be a hardship at all.

Steven never disappointed, not in anything. He never had to be reprimanded, he carried on long passed the time any other would have quit, and he was kind and generous with those lesser than he was. James had seen that in Steven immediately. They’d become fast friends. Then again, from what Thor had seen, Steven was fast friends with everyone. Even people others would not associate with. He helped without being asked and he relieved others of their burdens without complaint. Thor had spent fifty years barely registering his existence since his focus had been on James, but now he wondered how he had missed it all these years after the last had been spent under Steven’s care.

Loki had known him better than himself and chose this one so very wisely for him. It was something not to be forgotten.

“A swim it is,” Thor laughed, already striping as he headed towards the river. It was rocky along the edges but soft silt soon took over before the bottom emptied out. Thor’s hair laid upon the water’s surface as the dappled sun left the leaves and kissed his skin golden. The cool water was soothing and he gazed up at the sky he had been gazing at since his youth. He and Steve would be joined by the others soon enough, but for now, they could enjoy their swim together, up and down the current.

Steven whooped with joy as he stripped his clothes off and dove into the water with delight, for a moment forgetting all decorum in the sheer happiness of being given what he wanted. The water was deliciously cool in the hot summer sun, and he could quite easily stay there all day. He even risked diving under and tugging at his master's thick legs as he passed by to try and duck him under.

Alas, they would not be given much time to themselves.

One of the slaves from the palace came running up. It wasn't her place, she was a kitchen slave, but she had always wanted a higher station and saw her chance here. Anthony had been to the kitchen for the sort of foods Prince Loki used to enjoy, and she felt that if she told Prince Thor then maybe she would be rewarded.

"My Prince!" She fell to her knees at the water's edge, hand over her heart. "I believe Prince Loki has returned."

Despite the fun he had been having with Steven, and then Fandral who had come over to join the attempt at dunking him, the moment the name Loki was mentioned, Thor tore out of the water quickly enough to create a tidal force that dragged everyone near him under. He didn’t waste time with a mount, he simply dressed and summoned Mjolnir. Steven would wrangle the others back to the palace, either now or after he had his fun of swimming. Thor no longer spent much thought on him.

He landed with a crash of armour and high spirits in the courtyard and rushed towards his brother’s chambers. “Loki!”

He sounded exuberant as he beat on the chamber doors, calling out his brother’s name again. He’d been planning to visit him, but here he was instead! Today was truly a perfect day!

There was a call from the other side, not his brother, but a voice he vaguely recognized. “Prince Thor, call again tomorrow, my prince is resting.” Anthony didn’t like formalities, but sometimes he had to speak that way. He could almost feel Thor’s displeasure through the door. “I said come back tomorrow!”

It was not fair on Anthony to have to bear the brunt of Thor's determination or displeasure, but Loki really was in no state to see him. Despite his fears over what might happen in his future, exhaustion had overtaken him after eating and having Anthony help to smear the honey across his many wounds. He was asleep on his furs, naked and completely without any illusion to cover his thin and damaged body.

This was what he instructed Anthony for.

Nobody comes in, not without his express permission and forewarning. But how could one Midgardian slave possibly hope to keep out Thor, who had the strength of ten Midgardians in one fist alone? He stirred slightly on the bed, a slit of green appearing beneath closed lids.

"I must rest, Anthony."

That was it, all he could manage before he slid out again.

Determined to let Loki rest, Anthony closed the doors to the antechamber before he opened the ones to the hall. He stood, scowling up at Thor, fire and annoyance in his gaze. “He’s sleeping. He’ll see you when he wakes up.”

“Move aside, slave, that could be days from now.”

“And you will wait days from now if you must,” Anthony said, hands on his hips. “All you’ll do is anger Prince Loki and he could well decide it better to sleep in Jotunheim than in his own bed.”

The gall of the Midgardian nearly had Thor ready to rip his head off, but he made a valid point and Thor could see the wisdom in it. His anger vanished, but he settled on the leather clad sette by the door, arms crossed. “I shall wait.”

Anthony did his best not to roll his eyes but his best was not good enough in this regard. He shrugged to cover it and backed away towards the door he’d shut. He was quick about it, but Thor would still see a sliver of the emaciated man curled up in the furs. His eyes widened, but he said nothing even as Anthony shut the doors and blocked Loki again from his view. The Midgardian closed the curtains to Loki’s bed and tidied up his meal before he crawled into bed with him and snuggled close.

This was one of the reasons why Anthony was so valued. Very few slaves, even if loyal to their masters, would refuse an order from a higher ranked Aesir. But Anthony had not only refused, he had managed to battle Thor down to wait, and then kept his privacy. He did not know that Thor had seen a glimpse of him through the open door.

His arms opened and he pulled Anthony close, holding him as one might hold something truly prized. He would not allow his slave to leave the furs for the next two days, only to relieve himself and fetch water, otherwise he would be pinned and slowly penetrated as often as Loki wanted. It wasn't a rapid rut to relieve stress, but a gentle relaxing activity as he healed. He probably shouldn't take him at all, but he wanted to, he wanted to mark Anthony as his again.

Thor would be waiting out there for nearly three days if he did choose to wait, before Loki emerged with the illusion properly in place once more.

Being reclaimed was not for the pleasure, though Anthony felt pleasure. He just needed to be wanted in this way again, to enjoy the role he'd held for years now. If he could not be a good slave in all things, he would have been so very far diminished. But Loki was as thorough as ever and Anthony was allowed to be enjoyed again. He wasn't ruined after all.

Thor had ignored the sounds of pleasure coming from Loki's room, though he was growing steadily more annoyed at signs that his brother was awake and ignoring him until the doors were swung open.

Thor climbed to his feet, disheveled, but warily pleased.

"It has been a long while since you've left for this long," Thoe said. "Not since you went with mother to Vanaheim to visit our brothers. I was worried you would not return until I left the throne and I see that I had been wise to guess it true. For I am no longer All-Father. And here you are."

He wanted to embrace Loki. But he just held out his hand instead.

"You were missed sorely."

Loki did not care that his brother waited upon his pleasure. He had waited a whole year of agony to reclaim what belonged to him, and he intended to explore every inch of him and mark him as one owned once more. It was only when he felt a little stronger in himself and had the magic reserves to hold his illusion that he left the room to face Thor.

The first thing that he saw was pleasure, and it near buckled his knees in relief. He had feared scorn or being turned away, for he had abandoned his realm and family, but Thor seemed only happy to see him. He reached out and grasped Thor's forearm tightly, a small but tentative smile at his lips.

"As were you."

He would not admit that Jotunheim had been a disaster, but he needed a reason to have returned.

"Though my origins truly lie among the ice, my heart is here. I feel more a son of Asgard than of Jotunheim."

Thor gave a massive sigh. “You know not how that relieves me. You are and ever shall be my brother. It matters not whom our fathers may be the same as it matters not whom our mothers are. We share the blood of Asgard.” His grip was warm and firm and it would linger as long as Loki would allow such things. He couldn’t help but want to feel his brother beside him, truly beside him once more.

Clear blue eyes smiled down into evergreen ones as he spoke at length about his own mistrails upon the throne. He knew Loki would find several of his misadventures pleasingly hilarious and it would be good to have Loki laugh at him again. That was what was normal in their family.

“I have also been brought word that the All-Father wishes to speak with you in regards to the proposal you brought before me when I was blundering along.” Thor’s laugh was deep. “But I wish to keep you to myself. If you promise, however, to dine with me this evening, I shall let you rush off to be more politically minded than I currently have the stomach for.”

Loki had no desire to speak with the All-Father, where Frigga and Thor might be sympathetically disposed to him, he doubted that Odin would be. He had been the one to send him into the Odin-Sleep, so terrible was the revelation that his younger son knew what a monster he was. He doubted that he would have any welcome with open arms. Worse, now he did not wish an alliance with the Jotnar, he had seen what they could do and no longer held any affection for them in his heart.

He could not say this to his brother.

Loki pulled to his feet with an easy smile, a mask worn so well as not to be seen through, and nodded. "I will promise to dine with you, only if the All-Father does not need me for some other task." Such as being imprisoned. "Should I be free to dine with you, I will send Anthony to fetch you."

He glanced over his shoulder at his precious slave, dressed once more in proper greens and blacks.

"Come, accompany me."

Visiting his father's owner and the Aesir that cast him aside to the village was not Anthony's idea of a good time. Odin didn't like him, he knew that, and usually slaves flew under the radar enough to be neither liked nor disliked. Being noticed by anyone but your master was typically not so good. Anthony nodded curtly and followed Loki out of the room and down the hall anyway, leaving Thor to return to Steven. Finally. He'd promised him that they would do whatever he wanted three days before. He would extend the offer to that afternoon.

He just hoped his slave wished to be a vessel for pleasure. Thor could bed him every day without ever growing tired of watching him find his release without being otherwise touched save by what fitted them together. He already pictured Steven on his back with his legs spread invitingly as his brother and his slave left and hurried off to see if Steve felt the same way for the afternoon activity.

The throne room was less of a pleasure palace, and filled with many people Loki would not care to speak with. However, when the prodigal son was announced, Odin told his advisors to leave before he beckoned Loki into the antechamber beside the throne room. His own personal slave waited there and Anthony moved to stand beside him as quickly as possible without trying to look too shocked to see that it was Bruce. Odin's most often accompanied slave was young, female and a redhead. She never spoke to him. Nor to anyone. Odin, however, was much like his sons. He'd dismissed Bruce for what was in his blood but he did not stop caring for him. It had been a difficult thing to send Bruce away and so in some matters, when Loki had not needed him, Odin requested him back.

Such as this one.

Anthony kept glancing at Bruce's hands, strong soft hands that had held him many nights before Loki returned, right ubtil Odin spoke.

"Loki." The name seemed to echo. "You have returned home. I would know your intentions before we begin our deliberations." If they were at war... Odin already had his army standing by. He would not let the Jotnar destroy his kingdom. Even if Loki seemed to have traveled alone.

Of course Steven would welcome Thor with open arms... and open legs. He had never felt such pleasure as when he was bedded by his master, and his devotion to Thor grew more each day. The bedding also had the added benefit of making him freer with his speech and more affectionate, more like a companion than a slave, though he maintained his decorum when needed -- much as James had done.

Loki had a much less pleasant afternoon.

He strode into the throne room with his back straight and his head high. If he were to be banished again, disinherited, or locked away then he would do so with his pride in tact. It seemed that his pride was all he had left sometimes, something he guarded so jealously and so protectively. And yet it could be damaged by the smallest of slights.

"I did not know that I required intent to return to my home, or is this no longer home to me?"

He would not reveal what happened in Jotunheim if he had a choice, though he might not. Odin was far less understanding than Frigga in matters such as these.

"Am I to be interviewed as though an outsider seeking refuge?"

"No." Odin was still hard in his manners. He might have wished his own more pleasant afternoon listening to farmer disbutes to ease himself back into ruling after a long sleep, but no. His wayward son had returned the Casket to an enemy and disappeared until he had woke. Odin disliked distrusting his children but Loki had always been wildfire. "I wish to know if you have come as son, as ambassador, or as courier from a displaced foreign King."

Odin's words were almost biting. He did not fail to hear how Loki had disinherited himself, after all.

"The All-Mother has told me of her broken heart. You do no not see yourself as Prince of this Realm? I wish to hear it from your lips."

Anthony was grateful that Odin wasn't immediately angered by Loki's words. He wished he could tell his Master to be less troublesome!

Wildfire he was thought of, and wildfire he was. Brilliant and bright, but deadly and unpredictable. He could destroy that which he cared for as easily as that which he pit himself against, if only the wind blew in the wrong direction. He very nearly spat at Odin's feet for the reminder of his ill-chosen words to his mother, but he settled himself with drawing up further.

"Had I come as ambassador, I serve the position ill by not announcing myself in the proper fashions. Had I come as courier from Laufey-King, you would not have seen me before the dagger pierced your back."

Perhaps an unwise thing to threaten a king in his own throne room, but Loki had never been especially wise. Clever, yes. Wise, no.

"Asgard is my home, and I had thought myself still a Prince and son here. Tell me that I am mistaken, All-Father."

Loki did not know the proper way to choose his words and for that reason alone, Odin had insisted that they have this meeting in private. Threats, ill-timed and I'll-advised, were still threats and Loki would have found himself on his knees by the guards if he had said anything similar in their presence.

Odin wasn't entirely happy either. His frown beneath the golden eyepatch was exacting and filled with disapproval.

"Do not dare speak of betrayal and fealty in the same breath. You were raised better than that, my son. But so too were you raised with much of your mother's available love to give and still you spurned her. I understand the circumstances of your departure, Loki. The crime committed can be righted. But you must learn understanding. And trust. You may be my son, Loki, but I will not allow your behavior to continue unchecked."

Loki had been punished each and every day since leaving for his poor choice, for the hurt he had caused to his mother. But not for the life of him would he tell Odin that now, let him think that he had spent a year in the arms of another family being hailed for returning the Casket to its rightful place.

"And what punishment are you going to levy at me, All-Father?"

The tone of voice was a shaking and barely concealed rage, and he even followed it up with a bow that completely passed beyond sincere and into mocking territory. He was unafraid of punishment. He had suffered too much to be scared now - what could Odin possibly do to him?

Loki was mad to think that Odin did not know what had come of him. He did not need Frigga's magic for that, not when his Ravens, gifted to him by forces beyond those of Yggdrasil's branches, could come and go to any place they pleased. Luckily, Odin was wise and did not disclose this. Itstead, he aimed a punishment that would be more like a redemption to Loki.

"You will return the Casket. It is your birthright, one I have been told you were quick to master, but you require training. Once Jotunheim is once more subjugated and shown their place on the branches of our tree, you will begin your training in sorcery properly. I will not have a son who is weak and ill equipped with his power."

Odin moved away from Loki again, and Bruce moved to join him.

"Your slave will join you in this training. I can no longer put this off or shield you from it. Your mother will expect you. And it would be wise to enlist your brother on this campaign to Jotunheim."

"No!"

Loki rose to his feet again at once, vehemence in his tone and badly disguised fear in his eyes. He could not return to Jotunheim, he did not have the Casket, and he knew now that his power was no match for those that did hold it. He could not tell any, not the healers or his mother or even his slave, for it was not done on Asgard, but he had nightmares of being trapped there. The cold was no longer comfort but terror, small spaces made him short of breath.

"The Casket belongs to Jotunheim, you must not go there to take it or you risk outright war once again. They are content to heal their land, let it be."

As a punishment it was truly effective. If he had to go to Jotunheim with Thor, there would be no hiding that he was not seen as anything other than a malformed runt who had deserved to die at birth.

"I have returned home, I do not wish to leave again."

"The casket belongs to you. It has always belonged to you. I will not leave it in the hands of those that would seek to destroy Midgard or Vanaheim or Asgard herself." Odin did not turn to look at Loki. He could smell the fear coming from him. He was always and had always been a proponent of tough love. This was no different. Loki would only get over his fears by punishing those that forced those fears upon them.

He was hard edged in this.

"The campaign need not leave tomorrow. Much needs to be prepared for. You may take any of my resources for your use while you remember what enjoyment of the Realm Eternal can bring. All warriors know to take their leisure in memory of what they will eventually return to. We will discuss your plans at the next full moon." it gave Loki three weeks to learn and to devise strategy. "It will be your first led campaign, my son. Not even Thor was given this honour less than a century after he reached his majority."

Odin laughed to himself and signaled for Bruce to leave with him. Loki could yell all he liked but Odin would not be disobeyed.

"You seek to see me passed into one of the realms of the dead."

Loki hissed those words, fear and anger mingling desperately, at Odin's retreating back. He did not wait to hear any reply if one were coming, he only stalked from the throne room and swept through the palace corridors back towards his own rooms. He hated this, he hated--

Every day that he had been in that place, he had dreamed of returning back to the life he had known before he knew what he was. Where he could hide his Jotun skin and pretend to be Aesir, where he could be a prince of the realm once more. Those dreams had been dashed now, destroyed in favour of being forced back to the realm of his birth.

He was scarcely into his chambers before an explosive burst of magic knocked furniture and books aside like rags in the wind. He was trapped, no way out.

Anthony himself was knocked off of his feet, and he fell back against his arm with a thud. He hadn't hurt anything too badly, but his shoulder would smart for awhile. Still, it took him a moment to pull himself back up. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, swollen from having been bitten, but it didn't deter him from speaking. "You said you could find a way to go with you."

To Jotunheim.

Anthony shut the door to his chambers and returned, only slightly limping. "And the All-Father seems to think I might be useful. To you. To your magic. You saved me from a life of misery and death, Loki. I will follow you anywhere you let me." Even if that was to death.

Anthony waited to be hit or reprimanded for speaking out, but as he waited, he also took one of Loki's hands in both of his own.

Perhaps that would offer him solace if not strength.

"You know nothing, Anthony," he spat, taking his hand away with a vicious jerk. He wasn't truly angry, just frightened, but he didn't express that sort of emotion particularly well. "This is no campaign that you can assist me with, the All-Father intends for me to die on Jotunheim."

He knew that for truth.

His sorcery was nothing compared to that of Jotnar that had lived and trained for millennia, especially now that they were in possession of the Casket again. Taking his brother would do nothing, only let him see the shame of Loki's life before he was killed. He couldn't do this. He didn't want to do this.

"You know all of that is bullshit right?" Anthony had not learned humility in the year apart from Loki, that was for sure, and with remenants of his Master's scent and seed still in him and on him, he felt himself able to pick up where they left off in terms of comraderie. "He wants you to avenge yourself. Whatever happened to you. And he's giving you access to everything in his kingdom. If he thought you'd die he wouldn't send Prince Thor. Or his army. Or give you access to the sorcerer's library--"

Anthony crossed his arms over his chest.

"He's giving you all the means you need to reclaim your honor, Master." He was stepping over his boundaries in the worst way. He'd be punished for this, surely. "He's being a good father to you."

Anthony wasn't wrong that he was overstepping, and overstepping greatly. Perhaps if it had been phrased more gently, or Loki had not been so afraid, he might have been willing to listen to this advice. But now he did not, and to hear it coming from the mouth of his own slave felt like one betrayal too many.

"Get out."

The words were low, hissed out like an angry snake rather than shouted. He could not shout or he would kill Anthony there where he stood.

"Get out and do not return to my presence, or I swear that I will send you to Hel myself."

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

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject