fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

I come from a land of ice and snow

Asgard sat atop the branches of Yggdrasil since time began, and little had changed in their society in the years since. Each Asgardian was long-lived into the millennia, their lands were fertile, their people brave and strong. They had their vassals, their allies, and their enemies. Yet even those who opposed them respected the might of the Golden Dias, and the royalty who sat upon it. Currently that was Odin Borson, though he grew weary more easily now and had begun to consider passing the throne to his eldest son.

He had been blessed with many children, but only two that he considered worthy of his lineage and status. His firstborn, Thor, strong and honourable and everything an Asgardian warrior should be. His second son, Loki, was not natural born, though none knew that but his wife. He was different, a creature of magic and mayhem, of sharp intelligence. Both were worthy, but together they would take Asgard to a new prosperity, he was certain of it.

Midgard, where the mortals dwelt, was a land raided every few centuries for stock. It was seen as a breeding ground, much like a corral for cattle. Mortals were lesser, short-lived and weak, they were fit only as slaves. The last raid had taken place when Loki had been but a baby, nearly a thousand years ago, but the mortals that had been taken had been bred and cared for so that a healthy slave population still thrived. Slaves were given a weakened mixture of Idunn's crop with their food, to extend their natural lives to at least a few centuries in order to make them worth the effort to train. They had no rights, but they were taught well that this was their natural position.

All slave children were raised in a central pen and taught the same when small, those that then displayed talent at cooking, riding, hunting, housework, artisan skills, or singing were then measured off to be specially trained for higher masters. Every five years those who could afford to buy a slave, or those of high enough status to simply demand them, came to the corral and chose. Those who were chosen were special, were envied, and those who were not ended up working the fields out in the far reaches of Asgard, the most menial of work.

Anthony and Steven had been friends since they were little and being raised in the large pens together. Both had excelled, Anthony at crafting and Steven at warrior's skills, but neither were chosen when they were five, nor ten, nor even fifteen. Now, at twenty, it was their final chance to be chosen before they would be assigned to one of the meanest farmers beyond the borders of the great capital. Steven woke Anthony as the dawn rose, mingled excitement and nerves on his face.

"Anthony! Wake up, I've got news! I heard the overseer talking to one of the passing guards, and Princes Thor and Loki are coming to the corral today."

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Half in Steven's lap, Anthony twisted around to look up at the blond. "Are you serious? Odin's Beard, you're serious. Yes! If my prince will allow it, I'll go. I could teach practical skills-- I'll be terrible at it but I could try." He could make a difference. "As long as I'm not needed-- when we get back and you get permission then maybe your master can suggest it to mine."

Keeping Steven out of the palace sometimes would probably be a huge help in the relationship Thor had with him. No more public, romantic sexual escapades. Less temptation for them.

Anthony wanted Steven to prosper. Not fall into the same pattern again. His master couldn't afford to collect him again if he was turned out once more.

He reached for the back of Steven's neck to press his forehead to the other's.

"This makes up for that mouthy comment. Don't think I didn't hear it."

"You know how mouthy you are, don't pretend as if that's a surprise insult."

He snorted, it would be like saying that Steven didn't have a moral compass a mile wide, or like Bruce didn't need his peace and calm. It was just a part of Anthony and there was nothing wrong with that because he had learned to temper it when necessary and he still had his intelligence to more than make up for it.

Steven smiled as his forehead pressed to Anthony's, enjoying the closeness.

"I just remember how hopeless we felt as our third knot approached and we had nothing, if we can help others from feeling as if it's too late then surely that's worth doing. You could train them in metalworking, make them attractive to the guilds or even for sale to Alfheim."

Oh he laughed at that. Not at Steven's words but at the thought of helping to make slaves better. He and Steven had been trained rigorously, taught everything they thought would be needed, but the trainers were trained to train. They had never lived a life outside of the village. They didn't know. He and Steven could really help the kids in the village learn to make themselves more attractive. Not physically, most slaves were already attractive by virtue of breeding. A good slave needed more than aesthetics.

"You're earning your legacy," Anthony said, stealing a piece of that meat from Steven's hand. He chewed on it thoughtfully. "The new generation we're bringing back are lucky. Ask Bruce as well. He knows the palace better than anyone."

Steven was grateful for the trainers and overseers at the village, they taught him how to read and write, how to ride and skin a variety of animals, how to clean armour, how to fight, how to do menial housework-- but Anthony was right, they had no idea of life outside their little village.

"You should ask Bruce, he likes you better than me and you look like you might cry if you don't get something to do."

He grinned, feeling pretty content with life.

"We're so lucky to be the generation we are, we were born with purpose, how many can say that?"

"Is it that obvious?" Loki had been right to turn him out of bed to find something to do with himself. Obviously he needed it if Steven could discern that from a conversation. "All right then. If I don't see you until we are back in the palace, enjoy your last few nights of feasting. Go bed one of the other warrior slaves while you still can and make them feel special."

Anthony patted Steven on the head knowing that, like he was with Loki, he wanted nearly no one else but his master.

Anthony took a stroll through the stables where there was little more than weeping (such ignorant fools) and a few angry cat calls. He ignored them and meandered down to where their doubles had once been kept, hoping to find Bruce.

He wanted to run the training by him. And maybe get a few hugs. Bruce was always good for affection when Loki was refusing him.

Bruce had been given the option to return to Asgard already, but he had chosen to stay here and preside over the remaining Midgardians who would be left to fend for themselves. He had tried to tell them time and again that they would not be killed, that the Aesir were merciful and generous and they would have more than a lifetime of food left for them.

He had also begun to prepare the sterilisation serum, which would be left in the food when they abandoned the moon. It wouldn't sterilise them at once, but a month or so of eating it and they would not be able to have more children. It was just kinder, for any children brought into being on this moon would not survive or have a good life, and it ensured this pool of mortals did not continue.

Anthony would find him tinkering with some of the raw ingredients for the sterilisation mixture, but he looked up with a smile when the other slave approached him.

"Bored," Anthony said, perching in the end of a stool as Bruce did his work. "Really bored. Also Steven wants us to start spending time at the villages, to pass on our knowledge. Pretty sure Loki will let me. And now you're up to date on what's going on with me," Anthony grinned. No reason to beat around the bush. He rocked his leg up and down, watching Bruce do all of his amazing Bruce-things.

If anyone ought to be praised for their handling of the breeding stock, it was him. Bruce was compassionate and made sure everything ran smoothly. He was kind to those that didn't really deserve it and they were blessed with many young to replenish the bloodlines of their people on Asgard.

Tony was proud to know him too.

Which was why he pulled himself in close.

And hovered.

"Were you ever bred? For your berserking? I mean, that's an amazing trait. Better than blue eyes."

Bruce wasn't a fan of his berserking. A lifetime in the service of Aesir had let him see it as an asset as well as a burden, but it wasn't the great trait that Anthony seemed to think it was and so he shook his head at once.

"A berserk rage isn't a good thing. I will attack friend as well as foe, I can scarcely be contained, and I cannot always control when it will burst out of me. I am lucky that the All-Father did not slay me for this weakness in my blood that means that sometimes I have to be coddled and allowed greater freedoms to control it."

He would never have allowed himself to be bred.

"I took the sterility formula years ago, illegally, when I first began as a slave for the All-Father."

Anthony opened and shut his mouth. He stared at Bruce as if the man had three heads or was lucky to be alive, let alone privileged. "The All-Father must have loved you greatly," he said, quietly. "And still love you now." Anthony never pried. Bruce's business was mostly his own. "And you saved me. And others. You made all of this possible. You might not be able to bring a line forward and that's pretty awful to hear, because you're a fine slave and a better man."

Anthony surged forward to wrap his arms around Bruce, even if the other wasn't that interested. The younger slave so often got what he wanted that it was easier not to fight him on it.

Even if it lingered longer than it should, while he daydreamed of being sterile himself. But that would be unfair. Loki might well want his children to stay in his service.

Even if the All-Father still disliked having Anthony in Loki's care because of the prophecy neither knew a thing about.

"All right-- well how can I help? I don't want to muck the birthing stables."

"He does, I'm very fortunate. Never underestimate the love our masters can hold for us, I already see it in young Prince Loki, if cultured right it can last a lifetime. But it means you must be even more vigilant in how you conduct yourself, because you will have an influence over him that will be greater than you could ever imagine."

Bruce would his arms around Anthony in return, a comfort and a familiar sort of gesture. He was not touchy feely with a lot of people, but he had grown very fond of Anthony and did not mind cuddling him when he latched on.

"It would be stupid to ask you to help with the clean up anyway, it would be demeaning for one of the royal slaves to be seen ankle deep in placenta and blood." He grinned and pulled back a bit. "You can help me start lacing the food with the sterilisation formula, if you like?"

"Wow. Bruce. You know how to treat a guy," Anthony grinned, but went about helping to do as he was asked. The water and the mead would be easily laced but the food took some finesse and, as always, Anthony was a fantastically fast learner.

It would take the majority of the week to get it all finished but that was not what Anthony took away from that encounter with Bruce.

It was what he'd said.

Anthony already knew that Loki loved him. He'd seen it, felt it. But tempering the prince with his guidance seemed beyond his capabilities. Loki wasn't swayed by him... Was he?

For several days, Anthony stayed close to his master. He didn't complain, he just served him rigorously and then went to help Bruce. They stood together on the last day of their time on the moon together as much of the Asgardians left. Their shis disappeared into the darkness, taking Steven and many of the slave warriors with them, including the four dozen new adult slaves that had been deemed trainable or had come to respect their new way of life. That left Anthony, Bruce and a few other slaves behind to tend to Loki before they all packed up to take the last skiff home in the morning.

Anthony couldn't help but be pleased and he was in quite the good mood as he followed Loki back to his tent.

"I was speaking with Steven before he left and decided that I will tackle your bookshelves first when we return," he said, just chatting as he often did. There was almost no one here to see them and no other Asgardian at all to view whatever they did either. That was a freedom that Anthony was enjoying. "And then I'll fetch you new furs. The household slaves would change them but I don't trust their eye. Will it be the right season for the white furs? It's been so dark in the tent that a brightness might do us all some good."

Some masters did not like their slaves to have too many friends or fraternisations outside their work, they felt it detracted from their purpose. But there were good and bad slave owners, just as there were good and bad slaves, and Loki saw no harm in connections. A happy and healthy slave was much more likely to do their work with their whole heart, rather than one cowed and bullied into submission.

So he indulged Anthony's time spent with Bruce this week, and it seemed to do both of them good. He had fond memories of Bruce anyway, as one of his father's favoured slaves who had encouraged his desires in magic and book learning. Between them, they managed to lace all the food and drink to ensure that the mortals who remained would eventually become sterile.

On the last day, Loki had dressed himself in full ceremonial armour ready to be received back at Asgard and he had gifted Anthony with a new tunic in soft black with green trim so that he would look equally smart for their return. He smiled indulgently at the talk of mundane tasks.

"The white furs would be suitable, and I shall need you to prepare for a lengthy hunting trip. I have missed Asgard and I have been in one place too long, I plan to journey around our realm and visit remote villages and farmsteads. It has been too long since a royal representative showed them that even they were in our thoughts."

And it let him travel, it let him move. He had relished this triumph and duty, but he had also been constrained by it. He imagined that Anthony would also enjoy travelling the beautiful realm of Asgard.

"I may invite Thor, so you would have Steven to spend time with. But should you wish it, as a reward for good service, you may request Bruce to assist you on the road."

Bruce had taught him everything he ever needed to know about serving Loki, even if he didn't always follow those rules. He hadn't needed to, not when he and Loki had formed a bond fairly early on around the discipline and the mischief wrought together. Anthony arched an eyebrow at Loki's back anyway. "That's a good idea," Anthony mused. "Prince Thor travels with many slaves and an extra hand to help is appreciated." He knew better than to act overly excited about Bruce tagging along. Or to mention that he felt safer with Bruce there. The other slave had saved him, taught him, cared for him, and had a special place in Anthony's heart. "It's been decades since we headed to the northern farmlands," he continued, expressing interest in checking on how his irrigation system, put in place on their last journey, was holding up. It was a Prince Loki favored area for that reason alone and Anthony liked highlighting the areas that loved his master over Thor.

And he knew Loki loved it too.

He was in the middle of testing out potential itineraries on his master when Anthony felt his stomach sink. He moved forward to grasp as Loki's coat but his fingers slipped right through it. "Mast--"

Anthony faded before that fearfully pitched word escaped from his mouth. He, and every human on the training moon, had been scooped up by Jotnar and Vanir magic, dragged through reality and the void and deposited on Vanaheim. Anthony found himself standing slowly, gazing at the chattel, in his new black and green tunic, before throwing up on his boots.

The last thing that Anthony would see would be Loki's face contorting in surprise and then fury as his slave was ripped from him. At least he could be comforted to know that his master would likely look for him, though he had once again been separated and captured by mysterious forces. Not that he was the only one; all of the chattel were here and the other slaves who had been left behind to come on this last trip. Bruce was there, as were four or five other slaves of varying ranks, from a warrior slave to base kitchen slaves. All of them flocked towards Anthony, for he was the highest ranked among them, fear on their faces.

"Where are we? What's happening?"

The chattel were free and, though most were terrified and frozen because of it, some of them were realising that they were no longer caged and some of their captors (or the slaves of those captors) were among them.

But then a girl stepped out who Anthony would surely recognise as Loki despite the gender and age difference, for nobody else would have those green eyes and that particular posture, alongside another version of Steven, her voice raised.

"Be calm, we have not come to harm you, you are safe now. I am Loki of Jotunheim, and this is Steve Barnes of Midgard, we have freed you."

Not possible. Anthony wanted to reach out and shake the girl who was absolutely not Loki of anywhere. He was the senior most ranking slave. He was the one that needed to stand up to these people. “I am Anthony, personal slave of Prince Loki of Asgard. You will send us back immediately as we do not belong to you. We don’t care what you do with the rest of the chattel. Their purpose has been completed and they are free to continue on with their miserable lives.”

Steve knew this young, bare-faced version of Tony Stark. He’d spent the majority of his captivity focused on Bucky, but he knew him anyway. He also knew the Bruce Banner that stood beside him, and his eyes darkened mercilessly. There was such a thing as war crimes. And as far as Steve was concerned, he was no better than those eugenics focused Nazis. “Listen, son, you’re safe now. You don’t have to serve anyone. You can be your own person—”

“I am my own person! I’ve come to terms with you never understanding what your life ought to be, but you have no right to snatch me from mine!”

And yeah, actually, he did sort of see the similarity here between their issues.

It was probably a good thing that Bucky wasn't here, or all of the Asgardian owned and loyal slaves would already have bullets in them. As it was, some of the chattel looked as though they might form mob justice any moment and literally tear them apart limb from limb with their bare hands. A bad idea, because that would surely invoke a Berserker rage from Bruce.

The other slaves gathered behind Anthony. He was the senior among them, he was the one who would be deferred to and who's responsibility it now was to get them all back to their masters. Unfair, perhaps, but simply how these things worked.

Loki stepped right up to the youthful looking Tony and peered up into his face, her growth not even that to rival his height yet. "What the Aesir have done to you and your kind is against the natural order of Yggdrasil. Midgardians are a species of seidr and Yggdrasil as much as any other, their lifespan and weaknesses do not make that less so."

“There is nothing weak about us,” Anthony said, defiant to this imposter. “You have no right to make claim on us. We are not for sale and have been rightfully and lawfully owned from the beginning of the memory of our species.” He couldn’t back down on this. He wouldn’t. He had to get back to Loki, he had to get the men and women standing with him back. And he was willing to fight for it. A good fight would lead him to Valhalla—

But wait. This was Vanaheim. He could tell from the smell of it, from the look of it. The Free Markets were just over the hill. If this was Vanaheim, though, it could not be the Vanaheim Loki’s mother hailed from.

And that meant that if he were to go to Valhalla here, the prince would never find him again.

Anthony turned to the language of the Aesir rather than the All-Speak he had grown used to over the year dealing with humans that did not understand anything else. He addressed this false Loki directly.

“It is my right and rank to be returned. You will not keep me here. The last who tried to keep me from my master was torn limb from limb.” Sorry, Bruce. “I would not have that happen again.”

Bruce knew that now was not the time to protest what he had done, for Anthony did not speak untruthfully, though it was unpleasant to hear. The only indication of this was a slight shuffle from foot to foot, but otherwise he kept his composure pretty adequately through the exchange.

Aesir was not a language that Loki spoke often, though she was of course fluent in it, and so her voice had a slight accent that marked her as from Jotunheim. A twang to some of the words, a roundness to the syllables that shouldn't be there if she had been native of Asgard her whole life.

"I cannot allow you to return," she replied, using All-Speak so that the mortals were not excluded from the conversation. "You know of our location and may bring your masters down upon us, which would cause a war that we ill want."

“He will find me!” Anthony all but shouted, and it spoke to his youth. Though he was nearly a century old, his first centennial but two years away, the apples he ate did more than just prolong his life. It prolonged everything about him, including his mental development. He’d seen and he’d experienced a lot, but he hadn’t entirely grown from those experiences. It would take a lot longer for any of that to happen. The other slaves were silent, but they judged him.

He should not believe himself so important and irreplaceable. But he did. He had to. His whole being had been tied into Loki and without his prince, he felt empty.

“No matter where I am, he’ll come for me. You will be destroyed. Asgard is stronger than all of your might combined. All kneel to her throne. If you do not send us back immediately, you will be destroyed.”

The false Steven, the one with longer hair, without the scar over his eye, looked sad but understanding. “It’s not possible, son. Stand down and we’ll get you something to eat and something to wear.”

Anthony took a step back against Bruce, jaw set. “Leave us to die. We would rather that than be corrupted by you.”

Bruce, however, set a hand on Anthony's shoulder in comfort and spoke in much softer and more agreeable terms to the other Steven that he had tried to experiment on for some time.

"We would be glad of some food and clothing, thank you."

It was wisdom to know when to bow to the enemy, Odin All-Father had taught him that. Be patient and find the time to strike, never giving in but not resisting in fruitless ways that had no honour or purpose. They would be lucky to survive the night, for the chattel did not understand their purpose in life and had seen what was done to them as torture, and they were the ones who perpetuated that.

Loki just looked at the other Tony as if he were insane, a curiosity that she wanted to take apart and figure out. "Strange to see such loyalty to a creature such as what I must be, traitor to my blood and home."

"Traitor--". But Bruce squeezed his arm lightly and Anthony gave ho the fight. He'd never been taught this lesson. He never bowed to any save for Loki. Loki alone was his master and that had gotten him into trouble before, sure, but everyone knew his colors and no one dared cross that.

Until now. And now, poor Anthony was forever out of his element. His blood boiled as Steven's other self guided them to a small building for their safety. And he knew what that meant. They would be locked inside. Anthony forced himself to toughen up, especially when he saw how nice of an accommodation that they were given.

Steve did throw the bolt across the door and asked for two Vanir to stand watch. They needed to see to the rescued people first. The half dozen initial slaves could rest and eat and change inside the mansion while they tended to those in need first.

All were sufferers of rape and torment. All needed more kindness then the scant few.

Tony, walking with a cane and with a limp that Banner assured him would go away, found Loki in the crowd and smirked down at her. "So I just heard from Cap that you accidentally scooped up and met the other me. What do you think?"

Loki watched the scant few slaves taken away with interest, but she made no move to follow them. It would do none of them any good to get too attached to those who would doubtlessly be executed once they could be tried for their crimes. It would just be a drawn out process to decide which peoples were the ones to be allowed justice, though she felt it should go to the Midgardians.

"What has been done to them is not of seidr or unnatural means, they do not feel corrupted, but I cannot understand what would make any man or woman embrace their own slavery."

She had read about and seen accounts of slaves elsewhere, of course, and they were usually ecstatic with liberation when it came.

"I certainly prefer you."

"It's all cultural," Tony said, one hand in his pocket and the other on his cane. He didn't look at the building where their prisoners were kept. He didn't want to think too much about them because he really, really felt like going in there and killing the other Banner. He didn't know what that made him, but he couldn't forgive them. "They were born into it for hundreds, probably thousands of years. It's all they know."

And evidently they weren't treated too badly either because there were no uprisings. Tony didn't know. Or care.

"Plans for tonight? I have to keep occupied or I'm going to kill them before they go on trial."

Seeing Tony with this cane and limp made her angry at herself that she had not yet thought to contact Asgard and request some of their famous healing skills. The Jotnar did not have that sort of magic, but Asgardian women were famous for their salves and lotions which could heal all but the most grievous of wounds.

"I am at your disposal, though I fear bed sport may be too much for your healing body to handle currently."

She didn't want to be the cause of his death, after all.

"Perhaps we should take a trip elsewhere, then temptation will not hook you."

"To put your little mind at ease, I'm fine," Tony said. Though he did miss the sex, he wasn't going to push for it. Just having Loki around was good for the moment. That might eventually change but for now it was all right. He'd been in a lot of pain over the last few weeks, anyway, and with Barnes knowing his secret, he did his best not to be too indisposed with Loki.

Shame. Once this was all done, Loki would be headed home. And then to Asgard. It wasn't the first time he lost a friend though. He'd get over it.

"But Cap did tell me about the Free Markets. And the library? I wouldn't say no to a little bit of snooping." He didn't have the money he used to but that didn't mean he couldn't browse. Oddly enough, he didn't miss being rich. There was nothing left in the world to buy anyway. He had food and shelter and that was about all he could hope for right now. "You'll just have to put up with me acting like an old man."

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