fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

Hearing that his double would be the one with the burden to carry on his line and he, for the moment, would be free of the duty, Anthony’s step became all the more bouncy. Technically, he was put in charge of this operation but he had and would always defer to Bruce when it came to anything that they worked on together. The older man knew tricks of the trade better than Anthony thought he ever would. And so he rushed down to fetch an unruly, somehow shirtless and weirdly pierced older version of himself that called himself Tony and asked one of the Midgardian warriors to carry him for him. Anthony was strong but he didn’t want to be bruised up if the man decided to fight.

And it made him feel more important to lead the way from the skiff to the new pens where Tony would be deposited. The warrior dropped him on his shoulder with the other version of Steven and Tony grunted before trying to pull himself to his feet properly. It was hard when your arms and legs were chained.

“Oh. Great. Barton and Rogers. Fancy meeting you here,” Tony frowned, gazing back through the bars at Anthony and, of all people, Bruce Banner. “E tu Bruce?” he called, using the bars to finally get upright. “Help a bro out with the key will you? Or better yet, stop tip toeing and strut, big guy.” He could only hope that this was their Bruce and not some crazy space clone.

Anthony wrinkled his nose. "Wow. You really want that guy to breed my legacy? He's mouthier than I am."

That surprised Bruce and his eyebrows shot up. It should be fairly obvious that he wasn't the Bruce that this Tony knew, for he was wearing a tunic like all other Asgardian slaves and had no glasses, his weakening eyesight bolstered by the apples long ago. He had not seen another version of hum, but clearly he must exist. Maybe he had been culled as unworthy of breeding? Or perhaps simply killed in battle?

"Impossible," retorted Bruce, though it was with an affectionate smile, before he turned his attention back to the little cage. "Breeding will begin in the morning, I suggest you all get some rest."

He turned to lead Anthony out to where other slaves were penned, hundreds upon thousands of them, to tell him how they were separated, right through to the children of four and under who could possibly be trained well enough to serve initially.

Steve helped Tony sit back, a slightly glazed look in his eye suggesting that he was slightly concussed still from the battle. "Good to see you, Tony, we worried you hadn't made it. Where've you been?"

Tony didn't know Bruce well. He didn't know any of the people he had tried to fight along side of over the last few hours that they had spent on Earth. He wasn't sure how tied Bruce was to his glasses, or why this one might be wearing a tunic. He just had a lot of hope even if the situation was so very, very bleak. He had no idea that the Hulk had already been rampaging. Or that he was likely one of the only people who did not go immediately into hiding left alive during the last fire bombing of the planet. He knew very little of what had happened, and he didn't try to embellish it at all as he explained that he had been stuck in his armor and was only just fished out two days ago.

He didn't want to talk about this whole breeding procedure. He didn't want to talk at all. He was too busy scouring the cell for things to use to help them escape.

Not that they could. And even if they made it out of the cage, they were stuck on a moon. There was no way out of this.

Anthony was happy once again to be with Bruce too and he couldn't help but grin at him as they wandered through the pens of those already sorted towards a massive building filled with the smell of fear and huddled people. "I... Sort of expected this to be like the village," he said, young and so impressionable. He almost felt badly for these people, not because of their situation now but because they had grown up so badly. "They're like hurt animals. Has no one at all cared for them? Odin's beard-- I'm angry. I'm angry that people had to live like that. It's not fair. None of them had a shot before we came. How many other Midgards are there like this?" He had paused to watched a group of young teenagers huddled together. Fearful. They should be laughing and talking excitedly about training or their future masters and mistresses. Not like this.

Of course Bruce had never seen a culling before, the last one had been many millennia ago before he had even been born, but he had done a lot of research into Midgard and how it worked over the years when he had earned his right to pursue academic studies as well as his duties. He looked solemn as he glanced over at Anthony stood before those cowering children.

"It's worse than you can imagine. Midgard has many millions that die from lack of food, or shelter to sleep in. When other parts of their realm gorge themselves, or live in palaces big enough to house whole communities."

Asgard didn't have that. Some of the poorest farmers may sometimes eat lean, but none went without home or food. All Midgardians knew that they were guaranteed to be taken care of, even if unclaimed, because they were a life. A slave, perhaps, but still alive and part of the protection of Aesir.

"They fear us, because they have never been ruled. They live in small factions and think themselves the mightiest, and yet they cannot even care for their own weak. Be angry for the others, I am, but channel that into helping the ones that we have here."

Anthony nodded a few times as if resolved to do as tasked. Their job here was important. Most of the people on this moon would never leave it. Especially the males. They would be bred and then culled because they could not be tamed but their children would reap their rewards. Their line would carry on. In a few centuries, they would find purpose unlike what they thought they had in their Realm and it would be good to see those children grow to serve.

A few of the sick or infirm that had either not been noticed on the trip or hurt themselves during it were taken out to another building and kindly sent to Hel were their souls would know eternal rest and happiness. Their bodies would be buried, not by slaves, but by the Aesir warriors that had come with them as guards and trainers since it was part of their thanks for the good harvest of slaves.

Everyone here had a job. And the Asgardians that served during this year long period of training and first round breeding would be treated well to first pick of the new stock.

It was their honor, therefore, to conduct such menial tasks as the slaves prepared themselves to help create a new generation of slaves for Asgard. They ate and drank, warriors and laborers alike, in the massive feasting hall. After all, this moon and training ground was for them and for their species.

It was a good time to be alive.

Morning came after a hard night's work and Anthony accompanied Loki to his duty as commander to allow the breeding rites and rituals to begin. He couldn't help but touch the corner of Loki's sleeve as they moved from the blessing dais to the selection forum. The slave warriors would get their first pick and chief of them was Steven, standing in his gleaming armor.

Anthony was so proud of him.

The night before the breeding rites were set to take place, there might be some commotion from the small pens where the 'duplicate' slaves had been kept, claimed by Bruce in order to examine them further and see if he could find a link between the realms and find what might have made that particular branch of Yggdrasil rot.

The pen next to the three ex-Avengers, where the masked man had been put, began to screech as he, impossibly, began to bend back the bars very slowly with his left arm. It took a lot of effort, straining the arm to the maximum capability, but he would not be caged. He had his orders, and those did not involve being a prisoner here.

Clint was the only one awake at the time, and he immediately nudged both Steve and Tony awake, voice low.

"Look. Tall, dark, and creepy is getting out. Think we can get him to take us?"

Getting the Soldier to do anything outside of his orders was impossible. Currently those orders were to kill Loki and since neither of the three were actually Loki, they would see the shadow pass without even a glance towards their cage. It didn't matter how much Tony yelled either, though Barton put the kibosh on that and put a half choke hold on the engineer. His cries might rouse the others and that was a very bad thing if they wanted a distraction or at least someone to make it out.

"How's he so strong," Clint asked, ignoring Tony as he tried to tap out of his arms. He frowned at Steve. "Are you're supposed to be incredibly strong? Pepperoni pizza says you've got the muscles," he grinned, but that grin was mostly a mask.

Clint wasn't thinking about his family. Not yet. He assumed that they survived being in the middle of no where. The cities hadnt but surely they were fine.

A concussed Captain American would likely be able to bend the bars. But not before the alarm was sounded and the Soldier thrown back into his cage with double reinforced bars and a reverent sort of whisper about his abilities. Loki would be told of this incident the moment he stepped down to allow the slave warrior to do their choosing. Anthony wouldn't get to watch Steven's glor, or the beautiful and deadly redhead be selected who had been given a potion to reverse the work done to her in her youth, not when he had to follow after Loki as he was brought to the pens to question the escapee.

Anthony wasn't exactly that interested in this portion. They should just breed the man and cull him. Easy.

Edited 2017-06-14 01:43 (UTC)

Steven was proud to do his duty and know that his lineage would serve the Aesir for many years to come. He chose his partner and took a large draught of the mead brewed specifically for this purpose. It would make any who drank it exceptionally fertile, and the honey acted as a powerful aphrodisiac. The men chosen for breeding would become little more than mindless rutting animals, desperate to spill their seed inside the women, and the women would become just as desperate, their slickness allowing an easier breeding.

The Aesir were not cruel, they did not wish their slaves to be discomforted during this long year of expanding the herds.

Loki stopped in front of the cages and flicked his fingers, green light tearing away the mask and goggles that had been kept in place until then. Even he could not help but gasp, for this was a face he had not expected to see again. Yet it was harder, not the smile that James always had.

"His mind has been lost, it is as if he is half of Hel and half of Midgard."

A sad fate for one so noble and loyal as James had been.

That was heartbreaking for Anthony, more than anything else had been. He watched James stare blankly at him and then return his gaze to Loki as if he wanted nothing more than the strangle him to death. "James," he whispered, prompting one person in the neighboring cage to move closer to the bars. He said nothing to this version of Steven, but he could see the pain in his eyes as he realized who had been beside them all night.

"Buck?"

The word didn't translate to Anthony as anything in particular so he more or less ignored it and instead glanced towards Loki. "I know it would be kinder to send him the rest of the way to Hel, but Prince Thor--"

He'd never have to know. It still seemed so cruel. And it was a way of helping his own Steven out to get back to his Master if he had a way to absorb some of the intense Aesir's attention.

"Can't we help him? Bruce wanted to experiment with our doubles....maybe he can bring James back."

The Soldier didn't even glance over at the cage where Steve was looking at him with such heartbreaking hope and sorrow all mingled together with confusion. Nothing existed for him now except his target standing right there, Loki in the flesh. He analysed the conversation and considered where best might get him out of the cage and to a position where he could fulfil his mission.

"I want to be helped."

He doesn't. He doesn't even know who James is or the context they're using it for, but he does know how to act where necessary. An assassin has to be able to blend in and adapt to any situation.

Loki's eyebrows raise slightly, but he's well practised in hearing lies and so he shakes his head almost at once.

"Bruce may attempt to experiment on him if he wishes, I give permission, but no others are to enter this cage. He is not to be used for breeding or work, and should the experiments fail within the year in the training grounds, we will send him to Hel."

"More than fair, my prince," Anthony chirped, knowing his master was kinder than most others. James would have been dead already had any other been in charge. There was little room for more love than Anthony already had for Loki but somehow it kept growing anyway.

A cheer from outside likely meant that Steven was finished with his initial task, opening up the round for all others that came behind him and indeed, when Anthony and Loki returned outside, Steven was toweling off and his conquest was being taken to recover in the maternity building where she would stay until it was known if the breeding took.

He fell into line with Loki, thanking him for the opportunity to serve, and together, the three left without letting Steven know of James inside.

That didn't stop Steve, however, from trying to get through to his friend. "Buck. Buck do you know me?" How was it possible that he was still alive?

The Soldier watched until Loki had fully disappeared from view, before his entire body language changed from tense and alert, to a predator resting. Not quite relaxed, more in a state of rest until he had to charge and move once more. Only then did he tilt his face towards the other cage and the incessant call of the blond haired man, his own eyes completely blank.

"No."

He could tell by context clues that 'Buck' was supposed to be him, though he had never heard that designation before. The question wasn't a hard one to answer, he had never seen this man and he had no interest in him.

"It's not him, Steve," said Clint, gently. "That's impossible. You saw him die in the forties, right? And it's not like he's a superguy like you, he's just someone that looks like your friend."

"Are we just going to ignore the fact that you tried to kill me," Tony spat out, rubbing his neck in a way that caused the blue light in his chest to bob in the darkness. "Because that wasn't cool, Legolas. That wasn't cool." No one was really paying attention to him at the moment anyway, their conversation about the man next to them, and so in his perpetual need to be the center of attention, he offered: "And uh? He is super powered? He bent the cage. That's stronger than Captain Kool-Aid here."

Steve ignored them both, clinging to the cross beams as he pressed his face close to the metal.

"Bucky, it's me. It's Steve. Steve Rogers." It didn't matter what Clint said. This was Bucky. He would know him anywhere. "We grew up in Brooklyn together. We served in the Army together."

This would go on for some time, Steve wasting his breath trying to coax recognition from the other.

Tony groaned somewhere at the hour mark and kicked out at Barton. "Signature move him. I can't listen to this any more."

Steve talked well past the point his throat began hurting, his head pressed to the bars of his cage and his eyes burning. It was Bucky, God, it was really him. Why didn't he know Steve? Why wouldn't he speak beyond that one no? What had happened to him in the last seventy years? He felt sick with it, with knowing he must have failed his best friend in worse ways than he ever imagined.

He only stopped when their cage was approached by the one who looked like Bruce. He smiled in at them, making a small note on a parchment he carried with him.

"My name is Bruce, I'm going to be your supervisor for the next year. I hope we can work well together, I'll ask for your cooperation in all aspects of testing. Please don't fight me on this, I-- do not deal well with being angry."

It was a genuine warning, but he had no idea how much more sinister it might sound to these three. Not the Soldier, he didn't know or care about the Hulk.

Tony was taking it hard. He had met Bruce and worked with him in the span of five hours but he was the sort of man that hated and loved easily. Bruce Banner was his soulmate. He had known it since the other thanked him for the first words he said on the bridge of the hellicarrier. Any person that could be such a terror internally and take ribbing with a grain of salt all while being the second smartest man in the world made people like Tony Stark salivate. The older version of the kid that Bruce had mentored for years moved to the front of his enclosure and wrapped his hands around the bars. If Steve was allowed to spend a few hours whining at Bucky, he could suck it up and listen to Tony made impassioned pleas too.

"I know you. You're Bruce Banner. You're the world's leading theoretical and experimental physicist. I've read your entire body of work-- skimmed. I've skimmed your entire body or work. Mostly. I looked at all of the diagrams." Clint rolled his eyes at Stark. He was hard to like and hard to hate. How did a person get to be like that? "And you know me too, right? Just like this blond idiot here has a twin that knows me...? If you guys know us than why aren't you helping us?"

Tony fell into the stereotypical culling candidate. He pleaded. He negotiated. He had no idea that he was fighting against progress.

"And don't say that experimenting on us like animals is going to help. But if you have to take anyone first, can I suggest Barton? He's violent and smells like pizza."

Steve and Clint just stared at Tony for that.

"Perhaps the Bruce "Banner" you know from your world is a physicist, but I am a slave, and happy in my position."

Banner. What an odd name, not even a family name that gave the designation of his father as sire. Slaves did not take a family name, of course, as such a thing was not for property and they very rarely lived with their parents for any length of time. But surely if a family name existed, it should be passed from father to son, mother to daughter.

"You will likely not come to realise the benefits of this life, and for that I'm sorry. But you can be assured that your children, and children's children, will have a better life than Midgard could ever provide to them."

It was unusual, but he had heard tales of the last culling where some small minority of adults taken had become successfully integrated, but these were often already the most downtrodden and poor. They were so grateful to be offered food, security, and shelter that they embraced their new masters with open arms.

"I would like you to, one by one, step into the centre of your cell and hold your arms out to the sides, please."

“So…gonna pass,” Tony said immediately and Clint, who was now lounging in the back of the cell, knees up and one arm thrown across it, nodded.

“Me too, I’m good here, thanks.” His children’s children were going to be just fine where they were. When they decided to have them. Clint trusted his wife to raise those kids right and not rush into anything. He turned his face away from those gathered and looked through the grating at Bucky, face stoic and eyes facing front. That dude had the right idea.

Steve wasn’t going to listen either. He was not a POW, he was a kidnapping victim. That did not mean that he had to follow protocol. He did not have to comply and so he wouldn’t. That was going to make Bruce’s job harder, which was fine, right up until the point where he was joined by two Aesir, both women, but incredibly strong. Bruce had been right about the force. He would use it if he had it. And with this group, too wild and high strung, he was going to have to.

It wasn’t a great situation.

Of course, Tony ended up ‘going first.’ He was the closest and easiest to grab. There was some muttering from the rest of the group but they would all learn soon enough that they could not outmatch these people in strength.

Edited 2017-06-14 12:43 (UTC)

It wasn't even much to fight against, Bruce simply took a scan from them when they were in position to be examined later. There had to be something in their base genetic level that different from the mortals of the proper Midgard, something that indicated why the branch had rotted. Only when they found that would they be able to adequately guard against the same thing happening in the future to them.

Each of them would be scanned and released, though one of the ones who held James' counterpart would end up with a broken arm in the process.

In fact, not much terrible would happen for weeks. They would be kept in their little cage, taken out once a day at sunset for exercise, and examined by Bruce. Steve kept trying to talk to Bucky and got nothing, and they never saw any of the other slaves. In fact, it was nine weeks before something new happened, a portal opening and Thor finally allowed to leave his position as All-Father to return to being a prince, arrived.

With over three hundred women already showing the initial signs of additional life within them and celebrations happening every evening, the feeling for those belonging to the invasion party was light and airy. Aesir and Midgardians alike broke bread for only here were they closest to equal. The year would be a fine one, all told Loki of this as they were plied with delicious foods and kept their duties top notch and on point.

It had just reached sunset when Thor Odinson stepped foot on the moon and a rallying cry greeted him. He’d kept in constant contact with Loki and so his arrival was not entirely unexpected once Odin and Frigga had returned with stories and the spoils of a secret war conducted in retribution for the pains bestowed upon their youngest son. Jotunheim would fall in line and had already pledged, in two hundred years, to send vassals to Vanaheim and Asgard once their world healed. It was a fine time to be Asgardian or to be ruled by the Asgardians and all celebrated.

Thor was dressed down in trousers and a hunting tunic, happily striding through the outlier camps set up around the permanent structures on the look out for his brother. And he would find him too, having dinner in the company of Sif and Fandral with Anthony beside him. Steven was with the other warriors who had completed their round of duties for the day and was resting at the moment, to join Loki in the morning for his period of respite from the magic-laced mead he had been heavily imbibing.

There were already four pregnancies attributed to him, well into their first trimester of gestation.

"Brother! I am free once more! Embrace me for I have missed you!"

Loki rose at once and strode over to clasp his brother by the forearms and then pull him into a tight embrace. He had missed Thor also, and he had received word by the mirror that both of his parents were proud of what he had accomplished, it had put him in a rare fine mood that all had been benefitting from.

"I had thought never to see you again, you have been so long on the throne. Tell me, do you feel changed for it?"

He knew that Thor was not ready yet and that he did not relish his time spent ruling, it was too much tedious negotiation and duty, and not enough fighting or pleasure. But it would be good for him to learn that all of these things - from campaigning a great war, to the irrigation of the outer farms - were important to running a kingdom successfully.

"The slaves are already doing well at training the young children, and the breeding has been a great success. We hope to send the first crop back to Asgard within the next few months, the villages will need to be ready to be bursting at the seams."

“The grain fields have been charmed to grow more quickly and the storehouses are already filling when last I left. I approved reopening both of the unclaimed villages to the West and to the South to handle any that are not immediately claimed by the chiefs not on the campaign,” Thor said, holding his brother tightly in his sheer joy to be but a prince again. He did not relish the thought of being All-Father for many more centuries. His back to back stints in position was enough of a deterrent for awhile. Now, he wanted to live large and happily while he could.

Samuel was with him, as were the twins that saw to his meals and the three fanned out to take their places. The women prepared a plate and Samuel came to stand, tall and dark skinned, beside Anthony. Anthony did his best to remain unbristled. It was Steven’s place but Steven had been given to Loki. And Samuel had likely never thought himself promoted to such a high position in Thor’s stables. Still, he was amiable enough. All of those Thor possessed were. His smile was lovely and his eyes genial, but Anthony didn’t like him on general principal.

“After I dine as your guest, my brother, I would like to see the special Midgardians you’ve penned in person and tour the rest of the grounds. I have dreamed of the day we would spend our year here. I know you wish news from home, but indulge me. I require rest from discussions of Asgard and wish instead to see your plunder!”

Loki had been considering how best to handle this when Thor arrived. His brother was not so pragmatic as he, and if he saw James then he would surely want to claim him immediately. Yet hiding the mortal from him would be near impossible, especially when the rumours of a slave with James' face had spread far beyond merely Bruce and his few helpers.

"I would happily show you, but there is something we must discuss first."

He gestured for all of the others to leave, bar Samuel and Anthony who could stay as the personal slaves of each of them, waiting until Sif and Fandral had moved completely out of earshot before he spoke again.

"You have heard, of course, that these mortals look similar to some of the slaves we already hold dear. You know that I have sent your weaker and rotten counterpart to Valhalla, but what you do not know is that one of the slaves looks like your James. He is not, he is scarcely human any longer, his mind has been fractured by the cruelty of the Midgardians he has existed with for these years. I do not want you to see him and be shocked, or feel hope that James has returned from Valhalla."

Any joviality that Thor had with him was marred immediately by the news. He’d been hoping to see and converse with the alternate Steven and while he had heard whispers of strange duplicates of many of their most beloved Midgardians, he had not quite heard about James. Thor was understandably rocked, though only Loki and Anthony could see it. Samuel had been with Thor longer than Steven but he had never been too close. His duty before his promotion had been to prepare the tack and keep the horses and the supplies for battle always at the ready. His life had been easy but also distant from the Prince and he did not know what the look in his eyes meant that had Anthony frowning as the pair cleaned up from the halted feast.

“Is he too damaged for even the healers?”

A dangerous question. Thor had grown in many ways since he had taken the throne but his personal feelings simply could not be exercised. Not with Loki and Loki alone.

“Can there be nothing done?” James had been utterly important to him and having never given him a woman to continue his line, Thor thought him lost forever. "I would lay claim to him as is my right regardless of his ability to be rehabilitated from the monsterous Midgard he was found in, Loki," Thor all be growled. "If for nothing more than his sons and daughters." His slaves, Wanda and Pietra, were very fertile and beautiful. They could house this false James' seed if there was no other way.

"The healers have been to see him, but scarring on his psyche is akin to that of the most battle damaged warriors."

Though battle fatigue was a rare thing in the culture of Asgard, it happened sometimes and usually among warriors who had been captured and tortured by the enemy, or those who had seen so many campaigns that they were no longer able to exist outside of the blood and death of battle. A sad thing whenever it happened, and usually solved by either keeping the warrior in seclusion with the healers, or sending him into a futile battle so that he may find his way to Valhalla and the rest he deserved.

"I have told Bruce that he may continue to try and piece together his mind for this first year and, if no progress should be made, then it would be kinder to let his soul rest in Hel."

He reached out and placed a hand on Thor's forearm.

"But I will not forbid you from using him to continue his line, if a way to breed him safely is found."

A year was not a long time and though Midgardians were more fragile than other species, Thor was aware of the effects of blood rages and of life lived perpetually in battle. “I will send him to Hel myself if Valhalla will not take his tortured soul,” Thor promised because he was a reasonable man who understood that death was a reward and the place of death a further reward to that. He was quiet for a moment before he set an arm around Loki’s shoulders. “But perhaps that can wait until the morning. I will let our father’s prized servant do the work he was destined for. Tell me, will you be extending the line of your Anthony as well? He would make beautiful children.”

Short, but beautiful children. Thor was mostly just being kind here. He would not have picked Anthony, not even for his loyalty or cleverness, because he did not fit the ideal image he held in his mind, as Steven did.

Pausing in his duty, Anthony wrinkled his nose in secret. The idea did not appeal to him, personally, but he would not deny Loki. He thought he would have more time before any of that needed to be discussed. Many centuries at least. He had no desire at all to lay with a woman. Even if the meas he would be given to increase potency would also remove his inhibition, he would rather lay only with Loki. His Master had been kind to him in that respect. He never offered him out and if he took any other to his furs, Anthony was never a witness.

Perhaps that was not by design and Loki just enjoyed bedsport with others in their beds instead of his, though.

And Anthony was pretty sure that the conversation was less about breeding him anyway and more a tactic to hear of Steven.

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