fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

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.

For some reason, the Soldier didn't feel better here. He thought that this disquieting sensation would disappear once he was correctly following orders and with someone who appeared like a handler. But this was not a correct operating base for maintenance, there were no technicians here, and this potential handler was looking at him kindly. It itched under his skin.

"Requesting authorisation."

It would work more clearly if he had proof this was a HYDRA handler. The words to wipe everything clean in his head, a phrase that told him this was someone to be obeyed. Anything that would wipe out the earnest and desperate eyes of Steve Rogers from where they seemed to be burned into his consciousness.

The Soldier remained at attention, blank eyes watching Thor carefully.

Dropping himself into his favourite seat, kingly in every way, Thor surveyed the tent and the single person inside of it. "Your authorization," he said, the word strange on his tongue as all Modgardian words were, "is simply that you will listen to no other. I have claimed you and as such, you will wear my colours and only my colours. You will do what you are told, when you are told. You will serve me and do all I wish. There is nothing else you need worry yourself about."

He already had a feeling that this was not going to go well. Whatever had been done to James had cemented a particular set of behaviours in him. He was locked like a secret box. The wrong push would cut off the finger that did the pushing.

Luckily, Thor was made of stronger stuff.

"You will forget any orders from the past. Only the present count."

The Soldier glanced around very swiftly and slightly, as if looking for the machine that would ensure that was the case. He had been wiped and prepped before, he knew what to expect, but there was nothing here. Just the tent and its trappings, as well as its master.

"I require authorisation."

His repeated tone of voice was still level and calm, but within the Soldier he was preparing for a fight. He had protocols for what to do should someone not HYDRA take him and attempt to control him, they weren't so stupid as to allow their weapon to fall into just anyone's hands.

Thor would need the trigger words or the reprogramming machine to continue. The second perhaps out of his reach, but the first were a possibility using magic if he thought that far.

It didn't occur to Thor that there might be trigger words, but he did know all about enchantments and how to use magic to understand what seemed foreign to him. So he watched James for a moment before standing. "You will wait here. I will fetch what I believe we both need."

He expected James to wait in the tent as he headed towards Loki's. Anthony was just getting back to his master but Thor more or less trampled him to be first inside.

It was typically how life with Thor around went so Anthony wasn't annoyed.

"Brother! I believe James to be under enchantment. I require your assistance. It may be useful in your research to the rot on this neighbouring dimension." Thor meant well but Loki would likely see beyond what he was saying to what was truly being said.

Thor was bound and determined to get James back or kill him. There was no middle ground.

Loki had been looking forward to a relaxing evening.

He had set aside a smooth board with little stone pieces, intending to teach Anthony one of his favoured games of skill from Alfheim, and simply enjoy spending some time in solitude with him. A hot bath, some good food, perhaps some bed sport if the whim took him. But it seemed that was not meant to be.

"Midgardians do not possess magic of their own, Thor, or did you never listen to our tutors as a boy?"

While it was true that they were still connected on some level to seidr, as all races on Yggdrasil's branches were, they simply did not have the strength in their blood to manipulate it into solid form.

"He can be under no enchantment, his mind is simply broken. I am sorry that you must see him so, but that is the case and you must accept it."

"The perhaps you can enchant him instead," Thor said. Testy. If Loki wanted a nice evening with his slave then he had better see to what Thor wanted. "There is some sort of trigger. He must have been trained to accept commands only when that is said or done. Had has asked me for confirmation twice now and I would have it known."

It was better Thor waste time with this than with Steven. Especially because, by law, Steven was not available for anything Thor wanted. A breeding slave need only breed during this year. And to bed one would be a waste of vitality.

"I beseech you, brother. Assist in this and you may ask anything of me in return."

Anthony glanced between the two. That was a dangerous price.

That was indeed a dangerous price.

Loki's eyes gleamed with a sudden interest, and he unfurled himself from his chair with a sinuous grace to hold out his hand so that Thor could grasp his forearm in binding agreement should he wish to.

"I will hold that favour for the future, my brother."

If Thor truly was desperate enough to get James back then he would definitely not say no to profiting out of that desperation. Perhaps down the line he would use that favour to teach Thor a salient lesson about being careful what he bound himself into, and that nobody was ever worth chaining themselves for.

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