fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

Thor was pleased at how willingly James listened. He felt his heart soar. Even if James wasn't smiling, he still knew how to take orders. And that meant that he could be and would be saved. With a glad heart, Thor brought up the rear and watched from the back of the room as Steven was prepared. He liked the look on the blond's face, the hardness of it, how ready for battle he was.

The Aesir left the room once Steven was strapped down and Bruce started to prepare him. In the next room there was already a woman who had been prepared and her voice carrying through the thin walls.

No one would be prepared, however, for James' first attack, and directly aimed at Bruce. Thor was a little too surprised to do anything at the moment but Bruce could thankfully handle himself.

And Thor could handle Bruce once the berserking started.

Bruce might be able to handle the Soldier, but not with ease, and both had injuries when Thor finally subdued and calmed his father's old favourite once more. Those in charge of the breeding programs suggested that perhaps these two were not viable candidates for breeding.

Strength was a wonderful thing, after all, but both had personality issues. Who knew if James' madness would run to future generations? And Steven was so stubborn that he had half bitten through his tongue before the Soldier had even attacked. It seemed foolish to lose two Midgardians this way when there were so many others that had been viable breeding alternatives.

"We have Steven's seed," one of them said to Thor. "The true seed, we do not need to dilute it this way with the other. And James---"

Well, he was broken. Obviously.

There was a great silence from Thor, all encompassing and brooding. This felt like a loss of James all over again but he could not bring himself to send James to Hel. He could not bring himself to send Steven’s counterpart with him. He was weak in that regard. So he was silent and left in his tent, refusing to even see Loki for the moment, and Steven and James were returned to their cells.

Tony stood at the bars, shouting, when he saw Steve Rogers being half pushed and half dragged towards their cage. “Hey, hey, what happened?!” Steve was back a little too….quickly. Especially if they had expected him to play along with their program. That worried Tony. That fact that Steve’s head was down, bowed, and his feet were barely moving? That was scary.

No one said a word as Steve was tossed back into the cell, and Tony, still standing there with his broken nose, was yanked out. He wasn’t allowed to walk, he was too short for the Aesir guards, and so he snarked at the two men as he carried him back the way Steve had come, passed the Soldier who was unconscious, and into the darkness.

That left Clint to tend to Steve. He had already been tended for his tongue but that didn’t mean he was awake and so the archer stood pathetic guard over the man who had been his leader for all of ten minutes in a fight to the capture.

Anthony would be taken to the same room and they would attempt to dose him with the mixture intended for all breeding slaves. Even those who willingly went to lie with whoever they wished them to breed with, needed the mixture to increase their potency and stamina, not just their libido.

If they managed to dose him, he would be presented with a line of four women to copulate with, all of who would eagerly embrace him with a desperation that came solely from all they had been drugged with.

Steve spat blood as he came to, immediately trying to roll up to all fours, tongue feeling clumsy in his mouth even if it had been healed before he had been dragged back here. "Buck--? Bucky?!"

"Yeah man, your friend is back. They put in a new door and everything. Nice and cushy." Bucky was unconscious and put in chains but he had at least been returned. Alive. Probably. Clint wasn't in position to check on him right now. It ever.

Dude was insane.

"I'm not gonna ask what happened, Cap, but if you strong silent types have any iota of thought about chatting, I'm here, okay? Or you can just go whine at Bucky," Clint said, the last line under his breath as he rolled his eyes.

He didn't want to know about Stark yet. He hoped that he was brought back all drugged up too or with his tongue all funny. Because the alternative--

Man. This place was messed up.

Clint was about to move when there was a jostle from the next cage. Bucky was already coming too. Jesus. He was tough.

It was unlikely that Stark would be returned that way. He didn't have a bodyguard like Steve had, and he would be far less able to fight what they did to him. No serum, no nothing. Poor bastard.

For just a moment as he came around, the Soldier had an image of the blond haired man in a brown uniform with shining silver buttons. He was smiling in the memory, his arm on the Soldier's shoulder. But the memory, or dream, or whatever it was-- it faded and disappeared like smoke on the wind as he came round properly.

He was up and on his feet in only a couple of seconds later, prowling the bars before he turned to look at Steve and check him over impassively for injuries.

"I remember you," he said, voice low and cracked from disuse. Or he thinks he does, Steve was an old handler, a link to HYDRA here in this cage. Orders, safety.

Clint had been a third wheel plenty of times, and he took his cue from the way that Steve more or less ignored him in favor of clinging to those bars to have a seat back on his cot and return to sharpening a piece of rock. It was crude, he was used to much more high tech arrows, but beggers couldn't be so choosy and still get out of crazy rape camps alive and unmolested.

Steve gripped the bars as if his fingers would crack open and bleed and he wouldn't care. He set his cheek against the metal and watched Bucky prowl, trying to rest his tongue. It might be attached again, but the swelling had yet to go down.

"Do you remember me?" Stupid question, but Steve wanted to cry. He had suffered an ordeal in there, but it seemed to have jogged some of Bucky's latent memories. "Tell me everything you remember."

It was a strange way for the Soldier to be asked for a status report, and Steve did not yet know that Bucky was just following orders since they were so ingrained in him....as ingrained as blue eyed and blond handlers.

Strange, but it was not for him to question.

Though he lacked concrete memories on many of his handlers save his current one, a vague part of him knew that he had to accept any behaviour that came from them. Some treated him kindly, as if it helped them to see him as human, some treated him with excessive cruelty as if he needed to be taught who was in charge.

So he didn't question, he just stood as an easy attention and responded.

"I remember your face and the protocol of protection, I do not recall what years or missions you were assigned my handler."

Handler. It was not a word that Steve was used to and not one he expected from Bucky. "I wasn't--". And Clint cleared his throat. Maybe now was not the time to tell the guy, chained that he was and behind reinforced caging, that Steve wasn't the guy he thought he was. Baby steps, right?

"He remembers your face," Clint said helpfully, and then shut up again. Not his business. But then again, Bucky might be their hope of getting out.

"I uh... We knew each other a long time ago. A few years." Minus the time jumps. "I thought you died." And there he was, that broken record again. "But you...saved me. You saved me like you used to do when we were back in Brooklyn--"

"Cap?" Clint again. "A word?" Steve didn't want to leave the bars but he excused him (weird) to the Soldier and stood over Clint. "Can I just suggest you give it a little bit of a rest for right now. Got a feeling this isn't over." And he really hoped he wasn't supposed to be next, after Stark.

Though Steve would continue to talk with a hurting tongue for the next two hours, Tony would eventually be brought back. He was talking on his own, but his head was down and the moment he was let back into the cage, he settled down in the corner. Clint would not be next. Not that day. It was already getting late and Bruce wanted to monitor the situation with the women anyway.

The Soldier didn't answer much more, no matter how much Steve talked, and it made Steve feel oddly sick to his stomach. He didn't know what the hell a handler was, but he didn't want to be one in Bucky's mind. He wanted his friend to recognise him properly, and god did he ever want to see his lopsided smile again. He wanted to watch Bucky flirt with the dames or tease him over having two left feet or-- or anything, he had missed Bucky more than anything.

He only turned when Tony was brought back to the cage, concern overwhelming anything else right then. He might not get on with Tony that well, but it didn't mean that he wanted him to be hurt.

"Tony, hey-- you okay?"

Did they get him? Did they make him-- He had no idea how to handle it if they had, men just didn't speak about that sort of thing in his time.

He still felt a little sedated. He looked like death warmed over. That glow that the slaves had when they were finished their duty was because they felt as if they had done a job well and were proud of their accomplishments. Unfortunately, all Tony had was memories of violating a bunch of women he only found mildly attractive and who had literally fought over who got to have his cock. There was no foreplay in it, there was no romance...and while he was not generally a romantic at all, he still liked the leading up to the orgy part of the orgy.

This was nothing like that. This had been feral and mindless and he remembered every moment of it.

Wanting the sex hadn't really been an issue. He'd been hard. He had a need to get his seed out. And that was about it. It felt like nothing now that a violation. And Tony didn't actually think it was possible to feel that way when he didn't have someone holding him down with his face in the dirt and telling him to squeal like a pig.

Steve's attempt at trying to talk to him just made him want to throw up, but he smirked (and it felt like glass crunching in his jaw) and shrugged and looked down at his folded hands. "I'm great, Cap. Doing great. Thanks."

Well, shit.

Steve didn't often swear, even if his own head, but some situations just needed the stronger language and he was sure that God would forgive him for that. It was obvious that Tony hadn't been successful about fighting them off, and that changed everything. He had literally no idea to comfort Tony, because there was no comfort to give. It was a horrible situation.

He glanced at Clint, wordlessly asking for advice. Should he just let Tony sit and brood? Try and make him open up? What the heck did anyone do in this sort of circumstance, except kill themselves before they were forced to hurt someone else?

Oh right. Because Clint was such an expert? The archer leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, and tried to gauge the proper time to speak up as if Tony was spinning rope for him to jump into. "Hey Stark--"

"I said I'm fine," Tony snapped. This was not the sort of thing most people knew how to deal with. Not when it had happened like this. There weren't any pamphlets or support groups for this sort of thing and no one in this cage was going to understand what it was like until it was forced on them too. And while Tony would not wish feeling this way on anyone, he had nothing else to say to these two.

He wanted to curl up and sleep, or to use the wash basin and scrub himself clean, but he didn't want an audience for either of those things and so he just sat still and he looked at the floor between his feet. Clint pulled himself up to give Tony some space and leaned back against the door. His head shook at Rogers.

This wasn't his game and he was at a loss.

It wasn't Bruce that came in the morning, it was Anthony, leaning down to peer through the bars. "Steven?" His All-Speak was better than his friend's. "How is your tongue?"

Steve wanted to help, he really did, but he had no idea how. This wasn't anything that his life had prepared him for, he was the sort of person that helped people in physical danger, or offered them what comfort he could if they cried, or-- He didn't know how to help someone who barely tolerated him after they'd suffered a trauma that he could scarcely wrap his head around as possible.

After all, it hadn't been seen as possible for a man to be raped in that way back in his day, and a man being raped by another man was usually kept pretty damn quiet too. It wasn't right, but it's how it had been, and it meant he had no idea how to help. So he had also spent most of the night awake and staring between first Tony and then Bucky as he tried to figure out what to do.

As soon as the other Tony approached the cage, Steve was on his feet and stood in front of the other two in an obvious protective stance.

"I don't think any of us have anything to say to you."

"That doesn't matter. I'm just checking up on you. Verbally is better than just a scan but I can do that." He held up what looked like a crystal and though nothing outwardly happened, Anthony seemed to have gotten some sort of a reading. "Okay. Good. Now you don't have to listen but you probably should. In this world, you and James are more important to Prince Thor than most slaves have any right to be. And that is what is currently keeping you alive. If you don't want to submit to be bred and are willing to kill yourself first, fine. Already been done, right? But they will kill you. They should have done it already because of what James did to Bruce. I would really suggest that you cooperate if they give you another chance. And not just for yourself, Steven. Not just for James. But for your Anthony and your other friend."

There were footsteps behind him, likely Bruce's, and Anthony sighed.

"Your Anthony saved me from having to be bred." He wanted only Loki. He'd known only Loki's touch since the day he was first claimed. "And I am grateful for that. But his usefulness is done with if any of the pregnancies took. Even if you don't want to be bred, and there's no reason for it when you're so violent, I would suggest submitting to anything else they bring you. I saw you fight. You might go to Valhalla. But the rest? Not a chance. Hel can be as cruel as life."

"I won't go to Hel or Valhalla, those aren't the afterlife of my religion. I'll go to hell if I kill myself no matter the reason, but I'd rather take eternal damnation over hurting someone else in the way that you want me to hurt someone. You've already hurt Tony, I'm not going to let you do it again, not to him, not to me, not to Clint, not to Bucky."

He genuinely didn't care if he had to go down fighting, he wasn't the sort to give in to terrible things or compromise in this way. He didn't know the definition of running away.

"You might look like us, but you're the twisted ones."

Killing Thor, killing thousand of others, enslaving millions more, Steve looked utterly disgusted.

"Strength should be used to protect, not to bully. Don't waste your breath telling me to submit for an easier life again because that will never happen. You understand me?"

Anthony smirked. "It honestly doesn't matter to me. You're not my family," he said, straightening up to wait for whomever was coming. He was expecting Bruce but it was Thor and Anthony dropped immediately to his knees. "Prince," he said respectfully but Thor didn't really acknowledge him. The only slaves he had time for were his own.

In this case, it was James he was after. The prince easily removed the reinforced door and stood looming in the hole it left.

"James? Will you willingly follow me?" It was a necessary question. Thor would do just fine removing him, even on his own, but if he did not have to risk hurting James, he would not.

Of course, he also didn't want to do anything that would prompt his brother's slave to go and fetch Loki either. He didn't need that in his life right now.

Luckily, Thor was blond and blue eyed and had a commanding tone. That might do him well with Bucky.

The Soldier had spent a confusing night. His handler, for that was what he had designated Steve as in his head, had kept trying to remind him of things that could never have happened. Experiences that were for people, not for weapons, and he had learned a long time ago just what he was.

But now here was another blond haired and blue eyed man, with the right sort of commanding tone, stood before him like a handler might. Not as an equal to another, but as a master to a hound.

He didn't answer exactly, he couldn't just say yes when he had no proof any of these people were of HYDRA, but he did step forwards and take up a position in attention to signify that he might be willing to follow. If Thor could prove himself authorised to order the Soldier.

Thor was authorized to order anyone, and that included the poor broken James who looked as if he just needed some guidance. He knew, for he was not idiotic enough to deceive himself, that this was James returned, but he could still be of use. And if the Midgardians had abused him, in James’ name, Thor wished to see him as well as he could be. And while that would take time, yes, he had nothing more pressing to do. This operation was Loki’s to command and Thor would not take that from him. He was here to enjoy himself, to learn for the next culling, and to take some needed time away from the throne.

“Good.” James had, after all, shown himself willing to listen non-verbally. A good soldier generally vocalized, but Thor could be patient about such things. James would learn. He would teach him. “We are to attend training. Your strength is great as is your discipline but your mind is scattered and you have no clear direction.”

The others in the cage watched as Anthony stood. He knew James capable of killing. He’d heard the tales and he knew he’d come close to besting Bruce…which was insanity.

“We must also see to your health. You will accompany me for the appropriate scans and then you will have a nourishing meal. I will then see the range of your abilities and we will work on their use. Move ahead of me.” It was a matter of what James’ mind would allow at the moment. Steve offered a kind, affectionate memory but no real orders. It was dangerous, but warm. Thor too had a warmth, but he was more realistic in his approach and had no intention of trying to force the Soldier into a mold he was unused to.

It was a sensible approach to take. The orders were soothing, even if he felt some odd attachment to Steve, and less distressing than the constant talk about how they used to be friends. This was someone who knew his place, and knew the Soldier's place, and intended to make things right.

None of the orders he was given were that unusual. He had been through medicals before and often required maintenance if he had been in cryo for a long time, it could mess up both his organs and the connections to his cybernetic arm. He would recognise a proper medical examination by a HYDRA technician if it happened.

He stepped forwards as if to go in front of Thor, but hesitated, glancing over at Steve.

"He's my handler."

Possibly.

"Is he coming?"

‘Handler’ was not a strange term to Thor, though it was generally used towards animals that required being trained and fed and cared for by someone with more intelligence. Thor gazed at the copy of his Steven, one he did not necessarily need any more because he could have his Steven back again. “He is not your handler. There is another who shares his appearance who will be put in charge of your continued training if you would be calmer in his presence, but this one is wrong.” Wrong in so many ways. And yet, it saddened Thor to throw him out, even if he was no longer needed here. Bruce’s experiments were important to finding out the extent of the rot upon that other universe but otherwise, Thor had no need for this Steven.

His eyes returned to James, and while they were hard and commanding, they also were curious.

“He has forgotten his duty,” Thor continued, perhaps to benefit all listening. “And that is a worrying state to be. It is our intention to help him find his way again but it is impossible to tell if that can be accomplished.” Thor spoke truthfully to James, for even if he was just a Midgardian, and a damaged one at that, telling those beneath you the truth in all matters that concerned them allowed them to assist properly.

Thor would be ready to subdue James if he refused to listen to him. If he refused to come along, he would knock him out and carry him. Steven would have a rest day today and while Thor was prohibited from ordering him to do anything outside of his current sacred duty for the next year, he doubted that Steven would need to be ordered to assist with this.

That made sense in the world view of the Soldier's head. Steve was a handler who had defected from HYDRA and was therefore unsuitable, perhaps because of his insistence on treating the Asset like something more human than weapon, and he was not allowed to be his handler any longer. Perhaps he would be ordered to retrain the man, or perhaps kill him, both would be acceptable.

He stepped further forwards, something underneath the steel blue of his eyes troubled, though it didn't quite breach the surface. For now the Soldier was all, he would do as he was ordered, because he didn't know any other life.

"Yes, sir."

Steve tried to protect, hand through the bars and eyes beseeching on Thor.

"Please don't do this, if you have anything of the Thor I had started to call a friend then you don't want to do this. He's a good man, he's my best friend, and he's been hurt. Don't use him any more! Buck! Bucky, please listen to me..."

Though he had not been prepared to face Steven, in any iteration at this point, Thor’s eyes were cold and overly hard as he gazed the Midgardian’s way. He was harsh now for a reason, though he doubted Steven would understand. It seemed that these Midgardians were far more stupid than the mud they built their cities on and had no use at all for logic. “You will not address me so familiarly,” he said, having no desire to be friends with anyone of Steven’s race. It didn’t matter if he did love his Steven. The reasons were so very complicated. “You are wrong and the Thor you knew was weak. It should not have been so easy to kill him and yet he was sent to his Valhalla with very little effort. I am aware, however, that James had been injured. And gravely. By your own people. If I knew who has taken away his smile and his wit, they would be dead by now. Do not fret. I will see to his return to health. And, perhaps, you will come around as well… But it is not often that the first generation of a culling comes to understand their point and purpose. I hope you will find a good afterlife once your time here has been extinguished.”

And it would be, Thor thought. When this year ended, the Midgardians not returned to Asgard would be left here to do as they wished until their lives ended. That typically took a month, not for lack of supplies but because Midgardians were, when wild, willing to kill each other rather than share ample resources that would allow them all to thrive.

A shame, that, but not his problem.

“You will come with me,” he said to James, gesturing for him to walk again. “This nightmare will be over soon.”

Anthony was left alone once Thor and James left and he looked up at the trio still in the cage. “Is there anything, within reason, I can get for you until Bruce or Loki come for you?” Or until their time was up. And for angering Thor, that could be soon.

Steve watched in heartbroken impotence as Bucky followed Thor, blank eyed and obedient. He wanted to sit him down and find out what had happened, he wanted to hunt down everyone who had changed his friend into this and make them pay slowly and viciously. He wasn't even usually a vindictive person, but he couldn't help it right then, he couldn't stand the thought of Bucky suffering more.

He turned to glare at this fake Tony, still defiant, still utterly dumbfounded that anyone could think it was okay to treat other people this way.

"I don't want anything from you."

Steve would fight until the end, whether that was two days from now, or two years, or two decades. He wouldn't let anyone take Clint and Tony against their will, he wouldn't let anyone take him. He was done, no more.

"So stubborn," Anthony said, about to leave, when Clint asked for some better food. He didn't want to contradict Cap but he wanted the plates that they were brought in on.

"I saw you bring some good meat and bread to the guys over there before they were taken away so how about we get some of that," Clint asked, hands on his hips.

"That food is for breeders," Anthony frowned.

"Well you're breeding us right? Did to Tony didn't you?" He would say he was sorry about how blunt he was being later. "So what gives man? If I'm next on your gonads list, I should get something good for a change."

Anthony considered that and nodded. "All right," he said, leaving the three alone. Clint just held up a finger to Rogers, not even challenging him to put up a fight, just stopping it in its tracks.

James was taken to Thor's tent, but in the dead of night when his friends and fellows and the slaves were either sleeping or celebrating, no one paid a lick of attention. He let James go first, the opulence striking in furs and heavy fabrics and carved furniture. This was a tent for a king, past and future.

"Are you in physical pain anywhere? I should like to address this first," Thor commanded kindly.

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