Work Text:
Chapter 1
Howard Stark leaned over his work as it lay out on the stone slab before him. His salt and pepper hair made an intriguing halo above his head, pushed up as it was by the mask he wore when using his more powerful magics, as he held a hand over the left shoulder of the form on the slab. Focusing, he pulled power into the center of his chest, an invisible force that he spent years learning how to manipulate. After gathering a suitable amount, he willed it down his right arm and out his hand, chanting all the while. Tiny threads of power left his palm, forming arcane sigils on the material before him before disappearing, having been absorbed into the shoulder.
The design in front of him grew a circle around the white star in the center. Howard checked the design the Rogers kid had drawn. For a ten year old it was pretty decent; a white star on a field of blue surrounded by red and white circles, all coming together to make a shield that seemed to fit with the esthetic of the whole creation. The simulacrum he was making was in the shape of a man. Made with a mix of pale, white marble and the variegated colors of different metals which peaked out here and there, lending the being a sense of strength. He (Howard refused to call any of his creations 'it') was a little over six feet tall. Howard had spent a while trying to get his dark brown hair and bright blue eyes just right. In retrospect he should have rushed the more trivial things, but he took pride in all aspects of his work, and he thought he would have had more time.
The customer who had placed the commission with Howard the artificer was Sarah Rogers. Sarah had ordered him months ago, around the time the healers told her there wasn't any more they could do for her. She had still been strong then. The cancer hadn't begun to affect her appearance or mobility yet. It just sat in her body as the silent killer it was. She knew that once she died, her young son would have no one to stay with him. Steven was a sickly kid. Even if someone took him into their home he would need a person to care for him around the clock. Sarah worked from her home, growing herbs and other plants that she crafted into elixirs and tonics that she sold to the surrounding communities. This allowed her to stay with Steven when one or more of his illnesses made an appearance.
This is where Howard and his creation came in. Simulacra could be programmed with spells that would make them great caretakers and protectors. The artificer had spent decades perfecting his craft, magical abilities, and techniques. He knew he could make the perfect companion for Steven. He had planned on having him ready for work at the same time his builders finished the cottage he was having made on his property for the Rogers. Their families had been neighbors for years, since Howard and Sarah had been kids. Though they had never been close, he felt the need to help them in some way. He knew from experience that Sarah's pride made it impossible for her to take charity. He had offered to help her financially for a while after her husband had died in the wizard war when Steven was an infant. He had received a sharp smack on the cheek and a door in his face. She might do the same thing when she found out about the cottage, but she would accept it so Steven would have a home after her passing.
Or, Howard thought, she would smack me if she was strong enough to raise her hand still.
That thought was what had put him scrambling to complete his work while putting considerable pressure on the builders to finish theirs. Sarah had taken a turn for the worst two days ago. She had fainted in her garden while collecting her ingredients. Steve had found her and ran to get help, finding one of Howard's servants in the Stark fields. He had run so hard on his thin limbs that his breathing treatments were needed by the time he had found help. She had been in bed ever since. Howard hoped the new home and simulacrum would be finished before she deteriorated any further.
The artificer had holed himself up in his cluttered workshop ever since, weaving the spells that would make this lump of marble and metal into a useful being. He knew this was another in a long line of projectsv that kept him from his family, but the itch to fix something was under his skin. If he couldn't fix Sarah, he sure as hell could do something for her son.
Howard turned to the next circle in his design. These were the most important parts of his creation. Each segment in the design was a different spell that would program the simulacrum with his duties, giving him purpose and skill to aid Steven. The star was basic medical knowledge to treat the ailments that riddled Steven. The blue field held the knowledge of a warrior. That one might be overkill, but the world was a frightening place to be alone in, and the kid should be well protected. Each circle after that were spells for caretaking, something he called The Nanny Protocol, and a hunting/foraging skill. With each spell he added an underlying message of obedience. He had Steven come up with a phrase that only he could use to give the simulacrum a structure to grasp to for direction. Without the current of control attached to the owner, these creations became volatile and would burn through their life force soon after being untethered. He whispered the phrase before and after each spell, making the connection as deep as possible.
The exhaustion of pouring his magical energy into his work was wearing on him. He sat back in his stool, took off his mask, placed his face in his hands, and just breathed for a while. A soft noise drew his attention. Down by the foot of his creation Howard could see the top of a head carpeted with soft black curls and a small hand reaching up to brush along the right ankle.
"Hi Bucky," came a whisper in a childish voice.
The boy must not have noticed that he had Howard's attention yet. His son ran his little fingers across five letters engraved on that ankle. Steven had come over twice, once to meet the simulacrum so he would have a face to go with the command words, and once to name him. Steven had insisted on chiseling the chosen name, Bucky, on the creation. The script was clean and mostly neat, though the long line of the y was a little deeper than the rest of the letters. The child had a coughing fit when he was almost finished and made a mess of it. Howard had done what he could to make it look congruent, but he knew the imperfection was there and it made him uncomfortable. His logical mind knew his son wasn't pointing out his secret shame. Anthony was only five after all. He may be intelligent but he was still very young. Unfortunately rational thought didn't always show itself when Anthony was involved, and the annoyance Howard felt about most things concerning his son boiled over in a few short moments.
"Tony!" he snapped, "Get your hands off him and out of my workshop! Don't you have things to do with your mother in the house?"
Tony startled and jerked his hand back with a yelp.
"Father! You scared me," Tony whined. "I just wanted to see him finished. Have you put the last spell in? Can I help?"
As he spoke, Tony's expression went from startled to curious and then to excited, till he was vibrating with energy and a need to play with every bit of magic in the room. His large brown eyes looked up at Howard as he pleaded with his father.
This was honestly the last thing the artificer needed. He still had to pick the last spell to set, then run "Bucky" (what a ridiculous name!) through a few training diagnostics, and he was so fucking tired. Tony tried his patience when Howard was well rested, and could be too much to handle when he started manipulating magic. And manipulate it he could. Tony was a strong user for his young age. He made stupid mistakes and was reckless with the amount of power he poured into something. Howard didn't like training him. Maria constantly reminded him of Tony's young age, but if he wasn't hard on him now Tony would never learn caution.
"Go back to your mother, Anthony Edward. I'm busy and you are in the way."
Howard sighed, allowing all of his frustration with the situation, the pain of impending loss, and his naked intolerance for Tony's playing around to color every word he spoke. He turned his back on his son and moved to his reading bench where one of his spell books lay open. He needed to pick this final spell and move on to the final touches. He heard small footsteps retreat toward the door. Tony was a little more subdued and didn't argue like he normally would, but Howard simply counted it as a blessing. He turned the pages to the spell index, knowing if he just flipped through at random like he usually did he would be here all night before he picked something useful.
Howard worked a while more, jotting a few notes on a spare sheet of paper. Behind him, the sound of chanting broke the silence. The tiny voice of his son filled the room. The words lacked delicate form, but...wait…
How did he know the command phrase?
"'Till the end of the line!' Snugglicious cuddle-wuddle STOPTHECRYING! Buckybear lovebug! 'Till the end of the line!'"
Bright blue light flared from Tony's chest. He didn't funnel it down his arm since he didn't know the proper focus for any spell, let alone whatever the hell he just did. As if in slow motion, Howard watched the light shoot forward in an arching beam, striking the final ring in the core spell design. A scream ripped from the child as he burned too much magic too fast. The smell of ozone filled the room and Tony slumped forward onto the slab, and his head rested on the chest of the simulacrum. The creation flinched, breaking the daze that Howard was in. He rushed forward, grabbing Tony and lifting him gently in his arms. Tony's head shifted enough that Howard could see the flutter of lashes on his cheeks and heard a slight, pained inhale.
Thank all the Gods he was alive! Concern, panic, and fear rushed into him belatedly, rising together with his previous mood until he couldn't contain it.
"The hell were you doing kid!" he growled, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
A shifting, grinding noise drew Howard's gaze to the slab. Bucky was sitting up, turning to the two next to him. A voice, slightly mechanical in sound, came from the simulacrum.
"Activating Snuggle Protocol," he said. He quickly rose and, before Howard could protest, he and Tony were wrapped in strong marble arms, a hand carding through the child's hair.
"It worked!" came the triumphant whisper from the child in Howard's arms.
"What. Is. This," Howard bit out, shrugging off the simulacrum and setting his son down on the stool so he could look in Tony's eyes.
"Every sick kid needs snuggles, father," Tony said, nervous energy bleeding through his previously victorious tone. "I made a spell that would give Buckybear the skills to heal with hugs."
Howard sighed. "You wasted my last spell, kid. On something so trivial. And you could have blown us all up with that much magic."
He turned from his son and looked at the specimen before him. Bucky stood a little taller than himself, with a slightly muscular body to denote the strength that was carved and spelled into him. The artificer turned his gaze to the spell work on Bucky’s left shoulder. The last ring in the shield was in place. The surge of power from his son gave it a raised edge compared to the rest of the design. The construct was going to be insatiable in his need to hold everyone that looked like they needed it. Well, there was nothing to be done now unless he wanted to remove the whole arm and start over. There just wouldn't be enough time for that. Howard shrugged. He supposed there were worse quirks for a caretaker to have.