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Chapter Text

Cliché as it might sound, it all started with a trip to Asgard. Because, really, how else would the story start?

There was extensive damage done to the city during the Battle of New York, and for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with certain dicky politicians, the Avengers were assembled once again. Their mission: find a way to fix those damages.  

Tony was more than willing to donate to the city, but in the end there was just too much for one man, even a billionaire and overall amazing specimen of humankind, to fix.

With that in mind, going to the highly advanced, so-cool-they-were-worshiped-as-gods city was the next best step. Especially considering their super-cool space bridge was up and running again. Not only were the alien-gods very much responsible for the damage – seeing as their stray prince caused it – but they also seemed eager to help the tiny helpless Midgardians out. 

Just another chance to show how wonderfully superior and godly they were.

But who cares? They got a free trip to the super-cool alien city out of it.

Tony bounced on the balls of his feet and glanced around said city. Despite the Renaissance garb the people around here insisted on using, there was some truly advanced work put into the architecture of the city alone. It was breathtaking, and it made the scientist in Tony restless with the need to figure out how it worked.

“I told you not to load him up with sugar before we got here.”

Tony sent a glare to Natasha, who sent the not-really-whisper to Steve. The Captain looked bewildered, and Natasha sent Tony a smirk.

“Come on,” he complained. “I can’t be the only one who thinks this is awesome. Did you see that space bridge?”

“The foundation of this city really is amazing,” Bruce said.

Thor looked at them with an indulgent smile. A little patronizing, but it was too bright and sunny to be made at. “I am glad to hear it is to your liking, friends.”.

“That it is, Point Break. That it is. So, what’s next on the grand tour while we wait for the Eye Patch Patrol to finish up?”

Nick Fury had accompanied the team to Asgard, as the official leader of this effort, of course. He and Odin had been mulling over the details of how to pay the damages for several hours now, leaving the Avengers to entertain themselves. 

And leaving the team and the poor city to deal with the bane that is a bored Tony Stark.

Thor let out a booming laugh. “The tour must come to a close, Friend Stark. I will show you to your chambers, and then we will join the Director and my father for dinner.”

“No, no, no, come on. There’s more to see.”

“Like what, Stark?” Clint said, giving Tony the same look of amused, fond irritation as the rest of the group.

“Like, like…Like that,” Tony declared, motioning to a random building after a brief moment of consideration.

It was no different than any of the other structures they came across in the city. In fact, it was a very underwhelming example of the city’s architecture; the structure was simple, task based, lacking in the artistic flair throughout the rest of the city. Yet Tony was fixated like it was the most fascinating thing he’d seen in his life.

Thor followed his gaze, and shook his head. “That is the stable. There is nothing of interest for you there.” 

The big man’s voice took on the slightest hint of tension, and Natasha and Clint sent him twin looks of automatic suspicion. None of the others noticed anything out of the ordinary.

“I disagree. There are space horses. Come on, we’ve got to see them. Steve loves horses.”

The Captain glanced over to him with a confused quirk of his eye b row, then shrugged and nodded. Victorious, Tony started forward, only for Thor to step into his path, blocking the stable from view.

“It is best if we do not.”

“Thor,” Natasha said lowly, “what is it that you don’t want us to see?”

Thor started to shrug off the question, but a closer look at the woman’s expression had his shoulder’s deflating. He shifted, much like a little kid trying to keep a secret, and then sighed. “My brother is currently in the stables.”

“Loki?”  The question came from Clint, and his voice took on a soft, dangerous tone.

“Aye. He does so every day.” Thor sent the man a distrustful look.

“You keep prisoners in the stables?” Tony said, glancing at the building with discomfort. Asgard was kind of medieval , but they had to have better standards to treat their prisoners than that, right?

“No.” Thor assured. “Loki is merely…visiting.”

“Thor, I don’t know how things work here, but most prison sentences I know of don’t include time to play with the horsies,” Clint said. His eyes were dark with anger, and his fingers twitched, likely for his bow that was still slung over his back. Thor noticed the tick, and his posture stiffened as he crossed his arms.

“They do, however, allow visits with loved ones, correct?” He said, challenging.  

“What, the only place he could hang out with his friends was in the stables?” Tony asked.

“Not exactly,” Thor trailed off, and sent an uncomfortable look over to the stables. There was a moment of silence as everyone mulled over that response, and of course, Tony was the one who broke it. And not gently.

“Oh my god!” All eyes turned to the engineer. “The horse thing is real? Seriously?”

“Stark,” Thor said in a warning tone, bristling.

“What horse thing?” Steve asked.

“Norse mythology, one of the most widely told tales. Says Loki had a wild night and gave birth to an eight-legged horse. Odin claimed the kid as his war horse. By the way, Thor, you should let your dad know that he’s got the wrong definition of ‘baby-sitting’.”

“How do you know that?” Clint asked, anger momentarily forgotten.

“Don’t act so shocked. The city was invaded by something that was literally straight out of mythology. Am I the only one who did some reading on Norse mythology? Honestly, no ever does the reading,” he huffed at the following silence. “The first thing that popped up when I looked up Loki was the horse thing.  And I honestly stopped there, ‘cause, yuck.” He shuddered, and dramatically. “Anyway, I’ve got to see this.”

Thor blocked Tony’s path as the engineer made a bee-line toward the stables. Tony hadn’t taken more than a few steps before a very big hand planted itself on his chest and stopped him.

“No, Stark.”

“Come on,” Tony whined. “It’s a horse. With eight legs . Birthed by a dude . It violates all the laws of biology known to man. I have got to see this.”

“You will not mock my brother over this matter.”

“Look buddy, I’m not judging him. Hell, I’ve done some weird sexual shit of my own that might be on the same level.” Steve cleared his throat and shifted with a blush. Tony sent a grin his way and focused back on Thor. “Not mocking, just want to see the awesome space horse.”

“No,” Thor shouted as Tony moved to get around him. The team jumped and froze.

Thor was a loud person, by nature. Every word out of his mouth boisterous and full of energy. And loud.  

That being said, no one on the team had ever heard him yell, at least not outside the battlefield. Thor’s raised voice cracked through the air, and nearly shook the ground. It demanded attention, from everyone around him. A few Asgardians that were milling around the stables jumped to attention as the prince’s voice carried over. 

God of Thunder, indeed.

“No,” he repeated, back to his normal level of loud.

“Okay, Thor. Why don’t you take us back?” Natasha said, using her calm ‘dealing with a potentially dangerous subject’ voice.

Thor nodded, obviously relieved, and motioned for the others to follow. Tony trailed behind him meekly – or at least as meekly as Tony Stark could be – followed by Steve and Bruce, who’d stayed out of the tension as best he could. Clint and Natasha brought up the rear.

“Clint,” she urged as the archer sent a lingering look to the stables. 

He pulled his gaze away and sent her a nod. She motioned him over with a tilt of her head, and waited until he was at her side before moving to follow the others. Clint walked in step with her, and sent one last glance over his shoulder.

He caught sight of a dark figure surrounded by golden guards. The dark one’s eyes met his. Creamy green eyes, just a half a shade away from blue. 

Clint remembered the way they’d gleamed with interest before the sharp tip of the spear reached his chest, just before the point of breaking skin. Just before his world was drowned in a sea of blue.

Loki sent him a sharp, nasty smile as the guards closed in around him.

Clint’s hand itched for his bow again, and he averted his eyes before he could scratch it. Loki disappeared around the corner.

Chapter Text

Odin and Fury obviously hadn’t come to a happy conclusion by the time they sat down to dinner with the Avengers.

While the team sat with Thor’s mother and four friends around the massive table and dug into the equally massive meal – really, it was a miracle that there was only one person in the room who was horribly overweight – the two men continued their negotiations.

“I have already told you that you will have all you need from the wealth Asgard has to offer. What more do you want?” Odin said. He had an amazing poker face, but there was a hint of irritation that leaked in his voice at the lack of resolve in the situation.

Fury was thoroughly unmoved. “The money’s a good first step, but it only fixes the damage done in this incident. What about the next attack? You aren’t the only people out there.” Thor’s head snapped up at the phrase, and his eyes narrowed. “Something like this could easily happen again, maybe worse, and all the money in the world won’t help that.” The director paused, and the attention of the entire table was focused on him. “You took back the Tesseract, and it was a sound move. But that was also our best line of defense.”  

The point of ‘maybe you could do something to replace it’ was clear enough for everyone to pick up on. Odin’s face closed up completely.

“You speak of things you have no right to.”

“Our planet has suffered two attacks from your people in less than two years. In both cases, one of our cities was severely damaged. Hundreds of people were hurt and killed. Thousands lost their homes. Both times, one or both of your sons were responsible. And your people are supposed to be the more peaceful ones that we can expect. What happens when something nastier comes knocking?

“You and your son have both talked about a very impressive armory,” Fury pushed. “Whatever we need shouldn’t be that big of a loss.”

“It is not a matter of Asgard’s loss. The relics in the vault are the property of Asgard alone. No other realm is worthy.” The king gave Fury a look that clearly asked how the puny mortal even thought of questioning Odin’s decision. Fury stared the man down, and then shook his head with a snort.

“I’m starting to see where your kid got the attitude problem.”

“And if you really want to help, you could start by punishing the man responsible. We’re big on retribution,” Clint said from across the table.

Odin’s gaze zeroed in on him. The room went dead quiet, the four Asgardians seemingly hardly daring to breathe. After a beat, they all rose from the table like they’d all received the unspoken signal to get the hell out of dodge. The big man smacked Thor on the back as he went by, but other than that, they slipped out like ghosts.

It was an admittedly formidable stare, crackling with restrained power. Clint forced himself not to quail under it.

“Watch your tone, mortal,” the old king finally rumbled. “It is only by my generosity that you are receiving this payment that you so desperately need.”

“Generosity?!” Clint repeated, half incredulous and half raging.

“Sir, your son destroyed a major city.” Stepping in to de-escalate the conversation, as was his wont, Steve spoke calmly. “Hundreds of people died, and millions were endangered because of his actions. We’d hoped you were helping atone for what Loki did.” 

The Captain’s respectful mask twitched when Odin stared at him like Steve was insane.

“Loki’s actions were his own, and they were dishonorable. Attacking a defenseless realm, such as your own, is certainly un-sporting. It is not, however, something that I would feel obliged to mend in his stead.”

“You say that like he did nothing wrong,” Tony said. In fact, from the sound of it, Odin was more upset that Earth was too puny to offer a good fight than he was that Loki attacked them without cause.

“Midgard is under the protection of Asgard, as are all the nine realms. But you are too…young a realm to garner a treaty with the golden realm. As such, there is nothing to prevent any of the Aesir from establishing a firmer hold upon your world.”

Well, somewhere in that deep pile of bullshit, there was a ‘yes, Loki was technically in the right’. Tension erupted in the air.

“So you’re saying Loki won’t be punished for what he did on Earth?” Natasha said, voice cool. Beside her, Clint shook in barely restrained rage.

“It was within his rights as a member of the royal family.”

“Then why send Thor to stop him?” Fury asked.

“I sent Thor to retrieve the Tesseract. He decided himself the champion of your realm, and felt it his duty to protect you from a perceived threat. I asked him to bring Loki to face justice if possible, but the Tesseract was his mission.”

“So what is he locked up for? What did he have to come home to ‘face justice’ for?” Tony asked.

“Treason against the throne of Asgard. The attempted destruction of Jotunheim, and kin-slaying.” Something flashed over Odin’s face, briefly replacing the cool arrogance. It was gone too fast to be sure, but it almost looked like pain. “It is only through great difficulty on my part that the boy is still alive.”

Frigga reached over to grasp her husband’s hand.

“Is there ever going to be a point where he gets what he deserves?” 

“Clint,” Natasha warned.

“Your insolence is becoming most taxing.” Odin’s voice took on an underlying tone of annoyance, maybe anger.

“Oooo,” Clint said in mock fear.

“Barton, you’re becoming a problem.” Fury sent him a firm look. 

That was a tone Clint was familiar with, though it had never been directed at him before. It was one Fury used on rookies. Remove yourself or I’ll remove you myself. 

Clint thinned his lips to keep his expression blank, and dug his fingers into the wood of the table. The legs of his chair screeched as they slid over the floor as he pushed back from the table.

“I know my son did you a great wrong, Archer.” Clint froze midway through his turn toward the door, and glanced back at Odin. “For that, I will forgive your insolence. Do not try my patience.”  

Clint stalked out without another backward glance, and barely restrained himself from slamming the door behind him. 

Just outside the dining hall, Thor’s buddies were clustered to the side in the most pathetic attempt to cover up eavesdropping he’d ever seen. The men all wore amused smiles, except for the darker haired man; from what Clint had seen all night, he was pretty sure his face didn’t do that. At least the blonde tried to restrain himself. The fat man laughed outright. The woman just scowled.

“Don’t feel too bad, mortal man,” Volstagg slapped his shoulder, much like he had with Thor. Clint’s legs almost gave out under the force of it. “Loki has that effect on most people.”

Embarrassment boiled in his guts. Clint was happy that he wasn’t a blusher by nature. What the hell was this, high school?

Dipping down into the vast well of his experience, Clint kept his back straight and walked away. He nearly ran back to his rooms once he was around the corner and out of sight. Their laughter trailed along after him.

He did slam the doors to his suite, and though he found no small amount of vindictive pleasure in the act, it did little to help.

 His limbs trembled and his attempts to calm his breathing came out as ragged pants. Clint leaned over the water bowl that served as his room’s sink. The rims of the bowl dug into his palms, and he tried to focus on the pain rather than the raging storm brewing in his mind.

He was a trained assassin, he knew how to control his emotions. He was better than this. He forced himself to draw in a deep breath, and then another. 

 Take in the room, he ordered himself. Focus on the details, let that focus your mind.

 Clint stared into the mirror, and used it to study the corners of the room. It was a calming technique he’d developed long before he joined up with S.H.I.E.L.D. If he was aware of every detail in the room, no one could get the drop on him.

No one could pin his arm and take away his mind. 

Deep breath, he reminded himself as the ugly storm of emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Focus on the details.

The room was easily bigger than one of Stark’s master bedrooms. The four-post bed took up most of the wall it rested against. It reflected the architecture of much of the city, with sharp, long lines. The colors in the room were warm reds and oranges with gold trimmings. There was a window that gave a breath-taking view of the city.  

And this is for alien visitors, he thought. I wonder what the prince’s rooms look like?

Loki probably had a room like this, maybe better. His treatment so far seemed to lean that way. The shaking in Clint’s arms came back full force.

After everything, the bastard wasn’t being punished. 

Clint slammed his fist into the center of the mirror.

“Feel better?”  Natasha’s image as she slid into the room was splintered into many copies in the fragments of the broken mirror.  

“It’s going to hurt like hell here soon.” He looked down at the glance embedded in his knuckles. Blood trickled down the sides of his hand and down the back of his arm. “Right now, I’m so pissed it doesn’t even register.”

Natasha hummed and gently took his hand between her own. The silence that settled between them as she picked shards of glass out of his skin was light and easy, as it always was. The familiarity of it soothed Clint’s raging emotions like nothing else could.  

He sighed, easing the tension out of his shoulders. Natasha shredded a piece of fabric from the room’s bureau, and wrapped his hand.

“It’s not fair.” The words slipped out without much thought, and Clint laughed. It was such a stupid, childish thought, but it was stuck in his mind like a thorn. “It’s not fair.”

“It’s politics.”

“Yeah.” Clint huffed and let his head fall back. When were politics ever fair?

Natasha tied the final knot around his wrap and gave his hand a pat. She leaned back on her heels to study his face. She stared at him like she was stripping away every layer of who he was and cataloging his every thought. Even after the years of friendship between them, Clint still wasn’t used to that look.  

She sighed and shook her head.

“A lot of lives were ruined in the attack,” she said. “Those people will never be able to really put themselves back together. But the only way they can try is if we convince Odin to help them.”

Clint scowled.  “And?”

Natasha crossed her arms and gave him an unimpressed look. When he kept his face screwed up to prove he wasn’t going to accept her obvious message, she pushed forward to force feed it to him. 

“They won’t help us if we attack one of their princes.  Even if it is the one they like the least. Just keep it in mind, Clint.”

Finally dropping the act, Clint let insult color his voice. “Tasha, come on. I know how to control myself.”

“Clint—“

“Look, Tasah, I’m tired. Let’s pick this up in the morning. I promise I’ll keep it in mind,” he added.

Natasha held his gaze a while longer, and then made her way out the door. He closed it firmly behind her. Then he slid down to the floor, and held his head in his hands.

X

He didn’t sleep that night. 

At some point, he made his way to the window. He stared at the city below without really seeing it, and his thoughts wandered. 

His mind wandered, as it consistently had the last few months, to Bobby Matthews. Clint had never met the man – boy, really – but he’d come to know a lot about him since the attack on New York. 

Bobby was barely twenty-two, and he’d joined S.H.I.E.L.D just out of college. He was a decent agent, no great accomplishments and no black marks on his records. A normal guy, happily doing his job with no desire to make waves. One of those faceless drones on the deck of the Helicarrier.  

Bobby had been patrolling the bowels of the ship when Clint blew up the engine. He’d been killed instantly.

Clint made it a point to personally inform the families of the people he’d killed, or had been killed indirectly because of his actions. The counselor he’d been forced to see strongly advised against that, warned that it would feed into his misplaced feelings of guilt. Clint thought of it as making amends, and he was compelled to do it.

Bobby’s only family was his new wife, Paige. Clint remembered the moment that he told her about Bobby with cruel clarity, more than any other notifications. She’d answered the door with an apron tied around her waist, and her short black hair sticking out at all angles. Clint looked her over and categorized her, as was second nature. She was twenty-one, slim and pretty. Her eyes were a unique shade of golden brown, and they shone with immediate concern the second she saw him.

Her legs gave out when he gave her the news. He caught her mid-drop, and settled her onto the living room couch. She was in shock when she woke, so Clint stayed with her until she was steady. Her parents lived out of state, so they wouldn’t be able to come stay with her until the next day.

What truly haunted him about that day were the details of her life Paige shared with him. She was obviously still confused, but she became clearer with every word, so Clint couldn’t bring himself to make her stop. 

She told him how she’d known Bobby her whole life, with a friendship that slowly bloomed into love. They were married the second they graduated college. It was one of those cheesy, overly romantic stories that no one believed would work out, but secretly hoped would. And from what he could tell, this would have been one of the times that truly worked.

Clint felt compelled to check in on her in the months after they met, and so he found out she was pregnant almost as soon as Paige did. 

She found out she was going to be a mother less than a month after she found out she was a widow. And it wasn’t fair.

Fifty-seven. Despite Natasha’s urging, he’d looked up the exact number of agents who’d been killed in his assault on the Helicarrier. There were so many stories like Bobby’s. Men and women who’d just started at the agency, and others who were days away from retirement.  People Clint knew well, and faces he saw every day but never knew.  And then there was Phil…

All good people. People who were dead because a spoiled brat from another world wasn’t happy with what he had. 

It wasn’t fair.

Clint sharply turned away from the window, and pulled on some fresh clothes. Natasha was right; resources from Asgard were the only way to help the people left behind in the invasion. Helping them was more important than any personal struggle. But the people who were killed deserved justice, and they were never going to get it if that man who killed them wasn’t really punished.

He was just going to see, Clint told himself. He was just going to see the extent of Loki’s prison sentence, to assure himself that the loss of his freedom was punishment enough. Even if it wasn’t for the real crime, to a man like Loki, that was worse than death, and his suffering was enough to avenge the dead. That could be enough. Clint just needed to see it.

And if he grabbed his bow before he left, it was only because he brought his bow with him everywhere he went.

X

Tony Stark was not a man who accepted being told that he couldn’t do something. In fact, he took it as a challenge. A mind-quack (calling themselves therapists was just a way to lure unsuspecting victims into their trap) would say it was some kind of subconscious need to overachieve, due to his unaddressed feelings of abandonment and Daddy-issues.

Tony thought of it as more of a quirk in his dazzling personality. Like his ability to stomach three glasses of scotch before 9 am, and the way he was sometimes kind-of-sort-of crazy. They were just pieces of the dazzling puzzle that was Tony Stark.

So if he was irrationally obsessed with one boring building and the admittedly mind-boggling horse inside, it was not because of any mind mumbo-jumbo. It was just because Tony Stark did what he wanted.

He waited until early morning, when foot traffic in the city was at its lowest (because they were sane people who were not awake before the sun was) before he set out toward the stables. 

The team and the Eye Patch Patrol weren’t meeting until later that evening, so he had all the time in the world to get his fill of the Super-Awesome-Sider-Space-Horse without anyone bothering him.

X

Natasha woke up with the nagging feeling that something was wrong. She was fully aware the moment she opened her eyes. She scanned the room and found nothing out of place. Suspicious, she swiftly stepped out of bed and pulled on clothing for the day.  

The Asgardian citizens had set aside what they saw as proper garb for the team, and insisted that they wear them. The blue dress Natasha was stuck with was more fussy and complicated than she would have preferred, but she’d dealt with worse before. As she snapped the various sections of clothing into place she expanded her senses, still searching for the lingering sense of trouble.

She stepped out of her room, and her gaze immediately moved to Clint’s door. He’d been so unsteady after dinner last night, and even after she’d talked to him, tried to talk him down, he was still obviously troubled. And he had every right to be. But a craving for justice, no matter how justified, could be dangerous in a situation like this.

She thinned her lips and made her way to the door. Clint was a good agent, and an even better man, but there were some things that even the best of men couldn’t stand for. They hadn’t been trained for the things they’d stood against in New York.

She rapped her knuckles against the door.  

“Clint.” Her voice was soft but firm, meant to tell him she was serious without seeming like she was crowding him.

There was no answer. She knocked and called one more time before she pushed the door open. The room was empty, and that feeling of approaching trouble doubled in intensity.

Natasha weighed her options. It could be nothing: Clint and his bow were gone, that didn’t have to mean trouble. He could have been out for a run. Just because he was out of sorts about Loki, and he took his bow with him without telling anyone…Fuck it.  

She turned and jogged to Steve’s room.

This time she pounded on the door, and kept at it until he opened it. Standing in the doorway, Steve was rumpled but alert. He blinked at her in a mixture of confusion and lingering sleep.

“I think Clint’s gone to do something stupid,” she said solemnly.

Chapter Text

The guards were being particularly impertinent today. Loki studied them from the corner of his eye, fighting to keep his face blank as a small frown tugged at the corner of his mouth. The two younger guards, both just a handful of centuries ahead of himself, were openly leering at him, scornful and mocking. This wasn’t a particularly unusual occurrence – it had, in fact, become a regular facet of life over the last few months – and Loki promised himself they would suffer for even thinking they could look at him that way.  But they were being particularly bold this morning.

The older guard, one from Loki’s childhood, was outside the door, scanning the distance away from the stable. That was unusual. Ivar typically kept a close eye on the younger two. But, then again, after the stir yesterday, Ivar was understandably more cautious of outside threats.  

This time, Loki couldn’t swallow back the sharp grin that spread over his face. The Hawk looked almost ready to burst from just a single glance. It was nice to know his influence still had reach.

“What are you grinning about?”

Loki lazily flicked his eyes to the guard who spoke. He was the youngest of the three, with coarse, filthy looking red hair and an ugly, pinched mouth and nose. Loki hadn’t bothered to remember his name, but he’d felt an instant hatred toward him, the depth of which surprised him. He didn’t still didn’t understand its cause. It wasn’t that the man was his jailor, he felt nothing but apathy toward the other one, and a small sense of nostalgic warmth for Ivar. It was something about this man in particular. The slightest glimpse of him, even out the corner of his eye, made Loki want to vomit.

He swallowed back the reaction and forced a more broad smile.

“Marveling at the punishments the Norns can concoct,” Loki said. “What ever did you do to deserve such a visage?”

The guard’s pinched face twisted into a scowl. He looked ready to lunge for Loki’s throat before the second man stopped him with an arm across the chest. The scuffle brought Ivar’s scrutinizing gaze into the stables, and the younger guards ducked their heads until he looked away. The red-head continued to scowl, but he didn’t make another move to attack. His companion nudged his shoulder, and the two shared looks for a moment. The red-head grinned at some silent message from his compatriot, who released his hold and began to wander the stalls.

Loki dismissed them. Let them think they could do anything that would hamper him in any way. It would make his escape all the sweeter. After another few months of good behavior, slipping away would be an easy feat as their vigilance continued to wane.

Heartened by that thought, Loki smiled again, and then laughed when Sleipnir butted his head against his chest, apparently tired of being ignored even for the brief exchange.

“Apologies, niðr. Such lower creatures should never draw my attention so.”

Sleipnir nickered in that way that was almost like laughter, and ducked his head so his eyes were level with Loki’s. The great steed was many heads taller than Loki, and he had to stoop his neck significantly, but Sleipnir managed to angle his eyes so that he was looking up at Loki.  His gaze was soulful, and he nickered again, this time managing to sound like he was crying for attention. Loki grinned, gently this time, and obliged, running the brush he’d been given through Sleipnir’s mane. Those unique eyes, that looked much like a galaxy caught in the iris, neither that of Loki nor Sleipnir’s sire, remained glued to Loki’s face in abject adoration.

Loki had been distant from him for most of his son’s life. It was…difficult for him to be in the steed’s presence, for many years. Something about the smell, primal and musty with a sickly sweet undertone, tickled at the dark recesses of his mind. Brought sickening, cold fear in the lowest level of his belly. The phantom sensation of hot breath wafting against the shell of his ear.

Loki shuddered and violently shoved the blooming thought away. Stamped it down and locked it away. In the next moment, that tickle was gone and the lingering echoes of that fear evaporated. It was just Loki and his son, enjoying one another in quiet comfort.

He’d had his priorities very neatly put into perspective recently. In light of what Loki learned over the last year and a half, he was horrified at the parallels between his parenting and that of his father – either of them. 

The only silver lining of this ridiculous imprisonment was that it gave Loki a chance to mend the distance with his son. And Sleipnir seemed more than happy to allow it mended. 

Despite his appearance, and the expectations of everyone who looked at him (including Loki himself, he was ashamed to admit) Sleipnir was much more than a simple beast. He showed a remarkable level of cleverness, and an insatiable curiosity. And of course, the kind of mischievousness you would expect from a child of Loki. 

Even without the ability to speak, the two of them could spend hours in conversation. A mixture of Loki’s magic, and his son’s dynamic body language, his endlessly expressive eyes, bridged the communication barrier. 

It was, in spite of the relentless humiliation, a blissful time. 

Loki could spend his days getting to know the son he’d neglected, and he could tell himself that it didn’t hurt that he never saw any familiar faces. It was safer that way. Anyone he wanted to see would only be putting themselves in peril; Loki had enemies aplenty, both within Asgard and without. Distance meant the ones who mattered most to him weren’t vulnerable to retaliation. It was better that way and he didn’t mind it. Really.

Once he escaped, there would be more than enough time.

He only had a few more minutes of quiet before the guards grabbed his arms. Loki snarled and Sleipnir gave a start as they pulled him out of the stall. 

“What’s the meaning of this? I have time here until late morning.” Loki didn’t give the guards the satisfaction of seeing him struggle, but he did glare.

“And you’ll get that time,” one guard promised.

“We just thought you might enjoy it with someone from your past,” the red-head added.

Loki didn’t have more than a handful of seconds to riddle through that statement before they arrived at another stall on the other side of the stable. The older of the two wrenched the door open, and the red haired one shoved hard one the small of Loki’s back, sending him tumbling head over heels. By the time he levered himself up onto his elbows, and wiped away the hay – and what he vehemently told himself was not horse manure – away from his eyes, the door had been solidly slammed shut.  

Loki snarled and spun toward the door without even bothering to take in his surroundings.

“Open this door!” Loki slammed his fist against the wood of the door when the guards’ laughter was his only response. “I will see the flesh torn from your backs for this. You will know torments the likes of which you have never even—” Loki’s words were cut off by a reverberating scream at his back.

The scream itself did not faze him; he’d heard far worse on the battlefield. But the source of that sound made his heart shudder violently. He slowly turned to face it, his movements clumsy and slow, like he was in a dream.  

The sight of the monster horse, rearing up so its hooves were only a breath away from his face, made Loki flinch back so violently that his back smacked against the door with a jarring rattle.

The horse reared once more, and then settled and stared directly into Loki’s eyes. It paced back and forth, its posture jarringly predatory. Powerful muscles bunched under the creature’s burnt chestnut coat. It was huge, still towering over him even though he was fully grown now. Its eyes were the same disgusting milky brown that he remembered. 

Loki felt bizarrely detached from his body. The sounds of laughter from outside and distress from Sleipnir’s stall faded away to a muffle, like he was trying to listen through water. His vision narrowed until the horse was the only thing he could see, and the image was washed out and dim. Yet the smell of the stall was suddenly overwhelming, cloying. He could hardly breathe through it.

The creature suddenly gave an angry scream, reared back onto its hind legs, and lunged forward. Loki threw his hands over his face with a shriek, shrinking back into the corner. One hoof clipped his out-stretched wrist, shattering the bone. Loki cried out again and fell to his knees. The taste of bile as the searing pain in his arm shot straight to his gut.

Svadilfari shifted to his hind legs for a third time, and Loki acted without thinking. Another scream tore out of his throat as vibrant green magic gathered around his palms and shot out toward the threat. His magic had been restrained as a condition of his imprisonment, but outside of the cells, he had access to a small trickle. Enough to throw out this desperate defense. The blast caught the beast full in its chest, but didn’t knock it back in any meaningful way. Instead, it balanced on its hind legs, and something like dark pleasure glittered in its eyes. The soft sounds of snapping bones and popping of joints filled the room.

Loki watched in detached horror as the shape of a man slowly replaced that of the horse. The man twitched even after his bones finished realigning themselves, shrugging broad shoulders and cracking his neck. Reacquainting himself with a man’s form after so long as that as an animal. Those milky brown eyes settled on Loki, and his mouth convulsed into a grin.

“Well now. Look at you.”  

The man rubbed his jaw with another series of cracks. His voice was as rough as two rocks grinding together, another effect of being in animal form for so long. Rolling his neck, and sending out another series of loud cracks through the stall, the man took a step forward. He made the motion seem like he was just stretching his legs, working out the kinks along with the rest of his body, with big, exaggerated steps. But the set of his shoulders told a different story. He was stalking. 

Loki found himself mirroring the man’s every step without really realizing it, his back sliding along the wall. There was no real connection between his mind and his baffling numb legs.

Eventually, he cornered himself at the junction of the other wall. Svadilfari suddenly darted forward and closed the distance between them. As he moved, he kept a steady stream of a seemingly casual monologue.

“When I heard the guards plan to relocate me, I almost couldn’t believe my luck. To have the chance to see you again, face to face after all these years.” A little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. That’s a new one for me.”

He leaned in, placing his heavy hand on Loki’s shoulder. A high pitched stream of air wheezed out from between his teeth as his whole body tried to shrink away from that touch. His heels scraped uselessly against the straw covered floor, still trying to retreat. 

“You live by my will,” Loki mumbled. He felt so heavy, like his limbs were trapped in tar.

Svadilfari laughed, shaking his head. It was the fond look of someone watching a child do something cute. Or a pet performing a trick.

“I suppose so. Thank you.”

He reached forward, twirled a strand of Loki’s hair around his finger.

It wasn’t real. The thought rang in Loki’s head as clearly as if it had been spoken aloud. It wasn’t. The Other had obviously pulled him into a nightmarescape for another lesson. The Chitauri general was being exceptionally creative for this one. Loki was almost impressed. 

Svadilfari stopped playing with his hair and moved to cup his cheek.

“Do you remember the day we met? I think about that all the time.” He barked out a rough chuckle.  “Not much else to do, trapped as a horse. I got good at focusing on those memories, replaying them. It was the only way I could remember what it felt like to be a man. I can still see you clear as day. Always dawdling by the wall, so full of curiosity, so interested in our work. Trying to distract me. Flaunting yourself. Drawing me away from my work. ” 

Loki’s limbs were trembling so hard that he was all but vibrating against the wall. Cold. He was so cold. No, that didn’t make any sense. Frost Giants didn’t get cold.

“My father and I had big plans, you know. Plans that would have changed the face of the Realms, and I was a vital part of it all. Until you.”

His hand slid down again. Curled around Loki’s throat.

“Do you know how much you cost me?” He hissed. “The All-Father sent the armies of Agard on us. They were demons. Blood thirsty, merciless. And he led the charge. He butchered my father, my brothers, everyone I ever knew. While I stewed in the dungeons, locked up like an animal.” He snarled now, spewing spittle across Loki’s face.

His grip wasn’t tight enough to cut off his airway, just heavy enough that Loki couldn’t ignore it. Still, his breathing became strained.

“Please,” Loki choked out, his fingers scrambling for purchase. Even as his nails dug into Svadilfari’s wrist, gouging into his flesh, the man didn’t seem to notice. He leaned in ever closer, until his nose was pressed against Loki’s cheek.

“But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You had to reduce me to an actual animal. For centuries, I’ve thought of what you stole from me. My father. My people. My home, my freedom . All because you couldn’t take what you asked for, you whimpering meyla-tik .”

Svadilfari shook him now, hard enough that his head bashed against the wall behind him. Stars exploded behind his eyes. 

Outside, Sleipnir screamed and threw himself at the confines of his stall. Sel, Loki thought dimly. Underneath the terror and the numbness, his mind urged him to get to his child. To hold, soothe.

Svadilfari jerked him so they were eye to eye once again. “I will pay you back, ten fold. Every stolen moment, the family I lost. All of Asgard will burn, and you will watch it all.” A satisfied grin spasmed across his face, fighting the wrath burning in his eyes.
“At my feet, where you belong.”

It’s not real, Loki’s mind whispered again, even as Svadilfari’s hand tightened, cut off his airway. For a moment, another image layer over Svadilfari’s. Grey-violet skin, eyes of pale lilac full of cold malice and undeniable power. Thanos. As his vision swam, it became harder and harder to tell which vision was the true one.

It’s not real. It can’t be. A second hand wrapped around his throat and darkness started creeping in at the edges of his vision.

Chapter Text

One of the best things about Captain America was those solider’s instincts. Even with sleep still clouding his mind and his own overly-complex outfit to contend with, Steve was out of the room with his shield in less than five minutes. They didn’t need to exchange words before they set off toward the stables.

The pale morning light was just starting to flow over the city. Dew hung heavy in the air, sticking to her arms like a second layer of sweat. Foot traffic was mercifully low, likely only the palace staff, and none of the passersby spared the two of them more than a slightly curious glance. 

Steve was obviously trying to match pace with her, but they were in a hurry, and his stride was a lot longer than hers. She had to jog to keep up with him.

“How sure are you?” Steve said over his shoulder, his voice clipped and all business. 

“Sure enough that I dragged your butt out of bed at this hour.”
Steve grunted in the back of his throat. “I can’t believe Barton would do something like this.” 

Natasha swallowed a string of complaints and rolled her shoulder in her trademark shrug. It was harder to pull off while she was running. Fortunately, she was also too busy trying to suck air into her burning lungs for any other response.

She was in superior shape, kept her body in top condition – old habits – but keeping up with a super soldier was beyond her usual capabilities. Her legs burned, and the snatches of air she sucked in became more and more audible. Silence fell between them, only broken by the steady pounding of their feet as they ate up the ground. 

The palace grounds were a maze, and neither Steve or Natasha had seen enough of them to navigate easily. Finally, they made it to the far edge, and Steve paused to take a lay of the land. The stables were little more than a blob of shadows on the horizon, visible through the gaps in the archways. Even still, Natasha had no idea how they were going to find their way over there. She felt their time ticking away as a relentless itch between her shoulder blades. Time that Clint didn’t have. If they didn’t get to him before he did whatever bone-headed play he had planned…

Studying the terrain for a beat, Natasha just vaulted over the railing and dropped to the ground. It was a bit higher than she was expecting, but she rolled with the impact and absorbed the shock with minimal pain through her ankles and shins. Steve shouted in surprise behind her, but as Natasha continued on, he jumped down as well, quickly reaching her side and outpacing her once again.

Free of the confines of the palace, they made much better time. More turns barred their way, but the stables were never out of sight for long and they grew steadily closer. Natasha eyed their object critically every chance she got. The stables were still more shadows than anything else, but she could make out some detail. There was a figure posted out front, too far away to identify certainly, but she could tell it wasn’t Clint. The stiff posture and stillness made her think it was a guard.

Maybe they weren’t too late after all. If they would hit off Clint before anyone knew, they could write this whole thing off.

 They rounded the final corner, and ran smack into Thor. 

Steve narrowly avoided colliding with the Asgardian and skidded to a halt. Natasha wasn’t as lucky. Even with her prodigious – rightfully so – skill and grace, she slammed into Thor and bounced off his chest. The air was driven out of her lungs with a painful smack; the man was built like a brick house.

Thor caught her wrist and balanced her in a largely unconscious move. He was clearly out on a morning run of his own, garbed in loose clothing and sans his armor, more ruffled than Natasha thought a nigh-perfect immortal could be.

The big man blinked down at them with a bemused smile. “My friends! Where are you off to at this hour?”

Natasha stepped forward, attempting to block Steve from sight. A pointless endeavor, but it drew the Asgardian’s attention toward her nonetheless. Good. She didn’t know Steve very well, even after the last few weeks working as a team. But she knew the legends, and she knew the type. Lying was likely out of his purview. 

She offered a winning smile. “I felt the need for a vigorous jog. It’s part of my regular routine and those are best done in the morning. Steve decided to join me.” She doubled over with an exaggerated gulp of air. “It was a little more of a challenge than I was ready for.”

Much to her surprise, after just a few seconds of looking between her and Thor, Steve broke out into a bashful smile. “I got a little overly competitive, pushed things harder than I should have. I’m still not totally used to my own strength.”

Natasha’s eyebrow quirked before she could fully contain the reaction. That was more subtly done than she would have expected. Never one to let a good opportunity pass her by, she leaned into it.

“I would have been more pissed if you held back on me, Steve,”she teased. “Feels like you’re underestimating me here. Many men have paid dearly for that mistake.” 

“It’s more a quirk of my gentlemanly upbringing.”

Thor watched them with a bemused smile. But there was still a sliver of suspicion in his eyes. 

“Do you not usually go on runs with Agent Barton?”

Nerves leaped into Natasha’s throat and Steve scrambled to cover the pause.

“After the day he had, Agent Romanoff thought it would be better to leave him be. I volunteered to go with her. It’s not proper for a lady to go out by herself in a strange place. Even somewhere as safe as Asgard. Or someone as capable as Agent Romanoff,” he added hastily, with a hint of real bashfulness if she was any judge.

It wasn’t enough. That hint of suspicion bloomed into a full blown hostile accusation, and when he spoke, there was no hint of mirth in his tone. 

“Where is Agent Barton?”

Neither one of them had an answer to that. As they quietly gaped at him, minds racing for a cover,Thor’s expression darkened. The big man pivoted without another word, sprinting away with impressive speed. Right toward the stables.

Shit.

As the two of them raced after him, Steve quickly out pacing her, Natasha couldn’t help but kick herself. Between Steve’s propensity for guile and Thor’s shocking perceptiveness, she was starting to feel like she was really off her game. Thor was far less obtuse than he let on. Honestly, she really should have seen that coming; he’d grown up with a talented liar, after all. Just because he’d had trouble handling Loki since the Avengers had known him, didn’t mean those skills hadn’t stuck. 

Still, they’d have to file that away in his profile for later. 

X

Tony eyed his target from the safety of his concealment, just out of sight of the stables. Despite his genius level forethought, the place wasn’t quite as deserted as he’d expected; there was still one guy milling around the entrance. 

Tony paced down the corridor, trying to look casual while eyeballing the stable doors. He’d hoped that the guy would move on after a few hours, but as the morning steadily crept by, the figure stayed in place, barely seeming to twitch. Seriously, did the guy spend all of his time here? 

Tony blew out a frustrated breath and crossed his arms. When he snuck out of his room, getting here seemed like the most important thing in the world. But now, after being here for almost two hours, the allure was quickly dying away. In fact, he was getting a bit embarrassed.

Ready to admit defeat, Tony pushed off the pillar and started making his way back down the corridor, when a voice off to his side almost scared him out of his skin.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a serious problem with authority?”

 It wasn’t that the voice in question scared him, per say. It didn’t even sound angry, barely above a mild whisper, even though in the dead quiet of the early morning it was pretty damn jarring. Tony just really wasn’t prepared for it.

He shot Bruce a sullen look as the other man came into view, slapping an overly dramatic hand over his heart. “That’s it, I’m putting a bell on you.”

Bruce smiled mildly as he stepped out of the shadows, shaking his head. “Tony, what are you doing?”

Tony crossed his arms, then grimaced and cursed himself for the obviously defensive gesture. “What are you doing out here?”

“I’m out for a nice morning stroll. I love this time of day. It’s peaceful,” he insisted over Tony’s muttered ‘psychopath’. “Then I saw you loitering in the halls like Micheal Myers.”

Tony pouted. “Was not.”

“Yes, you were.” That patient smile stayed firmly in place, but a hint of unease flickered in his gaze. “You know we’re supposed to be on our best behavior here. It’s a diplomatic mission. Stuff like this,” he gestured vaguely around them, “not the best way to keep up our image.”

Tony puffed out an affronted breath. “It’s not like I was plotting a nefarious attack. Besides, did you see dinner last night? Diplomacy is barely hanging on by a thread. Don’t think anything I do is going to fray it any faster.” 

That statement hung between them, heavy and deeply uncomfortable. When Fury announced this little mission, the general concession was that it was going to be the easiest thing the Avengers would ever have to do. After all, Asgard was probably made up of a bunch of Thors, right? Boisterous, lovable giants who were easily baffled by anything that had been invented after the Dark Ages. Kind of cute, in their own ways.

The reality was proving to be greatly disappointing.

The average citizen was nice enough, yes, but higher ups were another story. The king seemed to have beef with humanity as a whole, something that, as Fury pointed out, he clearly shared with his younger son. Tony shifted his feet, suddenly deeply uncomfortable. The idea that they might be walking away empty-handed was troublesome, and one he wasn’t quite ready to confront as a real possibility. 

The images of the destroyed city flashed through his mind. He’d crunched the numbers, and numerous agencies had run their own calculations and tirelessly poured over the results. It all added up the same no matter how you looked at it. Rebuilding New York would take an insurmountable amount of money, and up to a decade. Without Asgard’s help, they were dead in the water.

Eager for a deflection, he went on. “And I’ll have you know, I do not ‘have a problem with authority’. Authority has a problem with me.” That earned him a wry grin and he counted it as an absolute win. He wandered back to the railing overlooking the stables, propping his elbows on the stone ledge.

“What do you think Reindeer Games is really up to in there? There’s no way he took this prison sentence lying down, and I definitely don’t buy this sudden display of maternal instincts.” Pensive, he strained his eyes trying to make out more details. “Maybe he’s, like, trying to weaponize it. The great Octo-Horse. Sounds like a world ending threat to me.”

Bruce snorted. “I think Asgard has some experience dealing with those kinds of threats.”

It was a graceful enough out, so Tony jumped on it.

“Yeah, the way Thor tells it, Asgard kills a monster every other hour. Almost feels like we need a public service announcement to advocate for endangered monsters.” Rolling his shoulders, Tony did an about face away from the overlook.  “Come on, I want to sneak another look at that technicolor teleporter beam. Maybe we can get the gatekeeper to let us.”

Bruce happily went along with him. Probably in an attempt to wrangle him in, but Tony liked to think his partner in science was just as eager to get a closer look at the Rainbow bridge as Tony himself was. He was, after all, a scientist after Tony’s own heart.

They made their way back down the corridors, idly chatting about the intricacies of an Einstein Rosenberg bridge. And then the peaceful quiet of the morning exploded.

“Agent Barton, stand back!”

 Overhead, birds scattered from their perches and soared into the distance with cranky calls. Tony jerked and whirled around, looking for the source. It was definitely Thor’s voice, impossible to mistake even without the thundering boom. And it came from the direction they’d just left. From the stables.

The two men exchanged worried glances then raced toward the sounds of confrontation. They came to the stables just a hair ahead of Rogers and Romanoff. 

Thor had one meaty hand clamped on Barton’s jaw, and he looked to be in a smiting mood. The archer dangled in the bigger man’s grip, his bow discarded at their feet as he clawed at the fingers around his face. Barton’s breathing was obviously impaired; whether that was the intent, or if Thor’s massive hand was just big enough to cut off his airway, it was hard to say.

“Thor!” Rogers was shouting. “Put him down. Now!”

The other blonde scowled at him, but eventually loosened his grip. Barton tumbled to the ground, heaving and gagging into the dirt. Rogers and Thor squared up on one another while Romanoff crouched at Barton’s side.

“Huh,” Tony called. “Looks like we weren’t the only ones out and about early this morning. What’s going on here?”

He’d hoped to break the icy tension, but if anything, Thor’s expression only darkened further. But it was Barton that spoke first, despite the strangle hold leaving him sounding he’d gargled glass.

“What’s going on? Thor’s gone nuts, that’s what’s going on!” He managed to get his feet under him. Face red, he pointed an accusing finger at the Asgardian.

The archer looked shaky, but he stood his ground. In spite of himself, Tony was impressed. Thor was usually such a ray of sunshine, it was easy to treat him like a puppy dog, and this was all the more unnerving for it. His face was dark and wrathful, and he lived up completely to his reputation. A war god. 

“How dare you.” Thor took a menacing step forward. His fingers twitched and hovered over Mjolnir, but didn’t quite make contact with the metal. “You’ve been invited to my home, treated as honored guests. You are the first mortals to ever set foot in Asgard. And this is how you repay us!”

“I didn’t do anything! For fuck’s sake, all I did was go out for a walk!”

Yeah, sure Barton, Tony couldn’t help thinking. Thor likewise wasn’t moved.

“Don’t take me for a fool, mortal,” he growled. “After the scene you made last night, your intentions could not be more clear.” He kicked away Barton’s bow, his nose twisted in disdain. “No matter what Loki has done, he is still a Prince of Asgard. Still my brother. And for you to dare –”

“Oh yeah, because you people have done so much for us so far –”

“Enough.” Rogers stepped forward, all stern disappointment, as usual. “Thor, we’re supposed to be a team; attacking Agent Barton was unacceptable, whatever his intentions. And no matter what he may have had planned, the fact remains that he hasn’t done anything.”

“Jeez, Cap, thanks for the support. Really feeling the love here.”

“Clint, shut up,” Romanoff said mildly.

Barton twitched, but backed down. Thor scowled, looking between the two men with an angry twist of his lips. The Avengers stood at an impasse and the air crackled between them.

The mystery figure Tony had pegged earlier, a guard as it turned out, had been standing rigidly at Thor’s side through the entire ordeal. Now, he stepped forward and cleared his throat. “My Prince. Would you like me to escort your guests back to the palace?” 

Before the prince could answer, something inside the stable clattered and crashed, and someone screamed. Thor turned on his heels – it was always a shock how light the big man was on his feet when he wanted to be – and raced inside without hesitating. His teammates trailed after him and found utter chaos waiting for them.

Two men were trying to wrestle a giant gray horse into its stall. The monster wasn’t going quietly; one man stumbled back to avoid a kick to the chest, and ended up on his ass. The second guy wasn’t quite as lucky. With a great wrench of its neck, the horse sent him flying and he collided with the wall with a bone rattling smack.

Free of its captors, the horse reared up– and yup, count ‘em. Eight legs, just as advertised. Four in the front and up in the air, four on the ground. 

Another scream rang through the air, so loud Tony thought it would burst his ear drums. The sound made the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end, and not just because it made nails on a chalk-board sound like Motzart. It didn’t sound like something that would come from an animal, though it sure as hell wasn’t human. And it was filled with pure rage.

“Sleipnir!” Thor called. He darted forward and caught the horse’s head. “Calm, yourself, nephew. Calm yourself.” 

He had to throw both arms around the horse’s neck to keep a hold of him, but he finally managed to muscle the beast still. Its massive ribs heaved with a series of chest rattling breaths before the horse slumped. Sleipnir whinnied again, a pitiful sound, then finally settled in Thor’s arms. 

The big man smiled gently and ran his hand over the horse’s mane. “That’s it. Sh, sh. It’s alright, nephew.”

Giving the horse one last pat, Thor turned on his heels to face the two guards. His expression changed so rapidly from that warm gentle light to dark storm clouds that it could cause whiplash. Even though it wasn’t directed at them, Tony found himself taking a step back, and he wasn’t the only one.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“The damn beast has gone insane,” one man, the flier, shouted as he climbed to his feet. Strands of hay stuck to his red hair, way too adhesively not to be drenched in something nasty. “It tried to kill us!”

“Ragnar,” the older guard warned, only to be cut off by Thor.

“Mind your tongue,” Thor barked. The older man immediately stood down, letting his prince take the lead. “Regardless of his appearance, Sleipnir is my nephew. You will show him respect.” 

Right. The spider horse, impossible progeny of the Odinson family black sheep. Speaking of… 

Thor scanned the stable, and quickly came to the same conclusion. His expression darkened as he looked back at the guards. “Where is my brother?”

The two men rapidly lost all color in their faces. While the one stumbled away, unable to form coherent sentences, the other one, Ragnar, shook it off. He ducked his head, under the guise of whipping the grime away from his face. But Tony caught sight of a nasty little grin on his face.

When he looked up again, he’d arranged his expression into one of solemnity. 

“He asked us to give him a moment alone. 

The other man jumped right on that train of thought. “Yes, that’s right. He wouldn’t stop pestering us until we set it up.”

Off to the side, Barton scoffed. “Great choice of guards, Thor. Is this what Asgardian justice looks like? What the hell is to stop him from waltzing out of his ‘prison’ sentence?”

Thor spared him a dark look and the two Agardian men bristled.

“He’s still our prince,” the second man said stiffly. “As long as he doesn’t attempt to escape, we are still bound by his orders.” A thoughtful look of disquiet passed over his face, and he suddenly looked deeply uncomfortable.

Thor’s eyes ping-ponged between the arguing parties, a suspicious twist on his lips.

“Where is he?” he prodded again, his voice regal, and fully done with this shit.

Ragnar shifted a little, then finally motioned to one of the closed off stalls. 

Without another word, Thor flowed to the indicated door. Rogers and Romanoff drifted so they served as bookends for Barton, much to his obvious annoyance, while Tony shifted closer to Bruce. The whole situation felt like a powder keg, ready to go off if anyone breathed the wrong way. 

Thor called his brother’s name softly as he eased the door open. For a brief moment as he stepped inside, whatever he saw froze him in place. He staggered back in obvious shock. In the next instant, he had Mjolnir in his hand.

“ YOU !” 

He heaved his hammer with a guttural roar, and raced in right after it. The Avengers followed in his heels, tension forgotten as they ready themselves to face the obvious threat alongside their comrade.

Tony caught half a glimpse of the figures inside. Loki and a very naked stranger were sprawled out on the floor, beside a Mjolnir shaped hole in the wall, both obviously startled. The red-head – the naked one – jumped to his feet as Thor charged in, calling back his weapon to his hand with its telltale smack. As Thor raised Mjolnir over his head for another strike, the stranger threw both arms into the air, summoning a wave of angry red energy. 

The stranger sent that energy outward, blowing the wall apart and knocking them all on their asses. 

Chapter Text

Natasha was intimately familiar with the aftermath of being too close to an explosion. The ringing in her ears, the heaviness in her limbs, the trouble drawing in air. This was a lot like that, factored up by ten.

Fanning out her senses, Natasha quickly took stock of her hurts. She’d been knocked flat on her back, and her tailbone ached something awful. But nothing felt broken. Her head was spinning with a mild concussion and the wind had been pretty thoroughly knocked out of her, but nothing too serious. 

She just couldn’t move. 

Sweat broke out on her hair line. Gritting her teeth, Natasha strained her muscles, but it was like trying to move a mountain. Even with all her focus, she couldn’t so much as twitch a finger. Her heart pounded against her ribs, her breath wheezing through her teeth in strained whimpers. Helpless, useless. She hated feeling helpless. She’d battled tooth and nail her entire adult life to ever feel this way again.

Natasha reached for anger, for embarrassment at her predicament. Those, at least, she could use as fuel to fight. But they were blown away by fear.

Useless. Helpless.

The stranger stepped out of the stall and stood over them, head cocked to the side like he was examining an interesting insect. Quickly dismissing the humans, the stranger turned his attention to Thor and the guards. The Asgardians seemed to have taken the brunt of the blast; the three soldiers were completely unconscious, and Thor himself looked like he was in a stunned daze.

Crouching down on his haunches, the stranger loomed over Thor with a cocky smirk. 

“Mighty Thor,” he greeted, voice dripping with condescension. “I don’t believe we were ever properly introduced. But you cut your teeth in battle upon my father, so I suppose that gives us a special relationship.”

Thor growled, his muscles spasming like a seizure as he tried to attack but his body remained limp. The other man just laughed. Shooting a smug look back into the destroyed stall, he wandered over to the older guard. He searched the unconscious form and when he straightened again he held a gleaming dagger over his head, triumphant.

“To think,” he murmured, almost to himself, “after all these years, centuries of waiting to avenge the cruelties your family did to mine, revenge will be this easy. I’m almost disappointed.” 

He didn’t look disappointed. As he crouched back over Thor, meticulously posing the tip of the knife over his vulnerable chest, he looked positively giddy.

A part of Natasha, the part that still lived in shadows and assassinations, watched avidly and wondered if there was anything unique about that blade that would allow it to kill a god. 

The human heart in her chest raced as she prepared to watch a teammate – a potential friend – be murdered while she could do nothing but lay there and watch.

Time slowed to an agonized crawl. The tip of the knife pressed into Thor’s chest. A vivid splash of red bloomed beneath the point. The stranger’s demented grin stretched even further. And a blur of green slammed into him with an angry roar, propelling the man across the stable. 

Natasha had never been so relieved to see the Hulk.

The stranger rolled free of the tackle and tucked into a defensive crouch, studying the green beast with a look of shock. Hulk snarled and pounded the ground, likely enraged by the concussive blast. He paced, back and forth, cleanly cutting the stranger off from Thor. It was hard to tell if it was an intentional move or not, but the result was still welcome.

The stranger’s shock quickly turned curious, then pleasantly intrigued. A smile tugged at the edge of his mouth and his posture relaxed. Uncurling from his crouch, he studied the Hulk with a slight tilt of his head. Smacking the ground once more, Hulk roared and charged. Eyes sparkling, the stranger let out a bark of delighted laugh, and ran to meet him.

He actually managed to block the first strike, catching Hulk’s fist in both of his, where they stood at an impasse. The second hit, not so much. The punch caught the man in the mid-section, hurtling head over heel into the far wall with a bone-rattling smack. He got up from it immediately, and darted in for a hit of his own, still grinning toothily. Naturally, his efforts did nothing but irritate the Hulk further, earning the stranger another punch in the abdomen. 

They danced, the stranger landing ineffectual blows while ducking out of range from Hulk’s retribution. And flew through the air when he failed to get away. 

Natasha winced as the stranger’s foot just barely missed stomping down on her hand. If this went on for much longer, those of them still prone on the ground were at risk of being trampled. The effects of the blast were starting to lift. Pins and needles tingled through her entire body, and Natasha managed to twitch a finger. A few more minutes, she was sure, and they’d all be back on their feet.

With another furious roar, the Hulk lunged, catching the naked man by surprise and snatching him up by one leg. Natasha watched with a tired, but smug grin as the Big Green Avenger did what he did best, smashing the stranger into the ground, the walls and the ceiling before hurling him off to the side once again. Hulk beat his chest with a victorious bellow and hunkered down to watch what his enemy would do next.

Though the stranger took the beating a lot better than Loki had, he was obviously winded. Rolling on to his hands and knees, he glared at the Huk with a snarl. Oh yeah, not so giddy anymore, Natasha thought with a vindictive huff. Sucking in large gulps of air, the man climbed back to his feet. With an ugly gleam in his eye, the stranger flung out his arms, sending another blast of that angry red energy hurtling toward the Hulk.

Even at this distance, with the energy not directed at her, Natasha cringed. The air felt heavier, as suffocating as a rockslide. The feeling, mercifully, passed quickly and she was rewarded with a gratifying view of the shock on the stranger’s face when his finishing move only made Hulk stagger back a few steps. As the green beast moved to charge, the stranger drew in more energy and threw out a second attack with a caterwauling cry of panic and rage. 

The blast shook the entire stable down to its foundations, blew several doors off the stalls and lifted the Hulk clear off of his feet. Natasha was sure it would kill them all, just in its glancing effects. When the dark spots cleared from her vision, Hulk was gone. There was a gaping hole in the other side of the building, and she could hear his furious roars in the distance, but obviously the big guy was out of the fight.

The victory had taken a lot out of the stranger. He swayed on his feet, breathing heavily. Then his ears perked up and his head whipped over to the open door. He scowled.

Reinforcements, Natasha deduced, hearing the rattling sound of armored boots. Good.

The man hesitated, looking between Thor and the approaching guards. Weighing it. The Asgardians in the stable were starting to recover, even with the reinforced effects of his magic. His shoulders continued to heave and his legs visibly trembled. Finally, he turned away from Thor, vindictively digging his foot into the downed man’s side as he passed, and instead crossed ro Loki’s side.

The dark-haired Asgardian, oddly enough, hadn’t taken any advantage of the chaos, whether to escape or attack any of his enemies while they were helpless. It didn’t seem like he’d been impacted by any of the blasts; he was still sitting upright, propped up against the wall in the stall, watching with a bored expression as the stranger crouched down at his side.

The re-head shook his head ruefully. “It seems I’ve overestimated my capabilities. I suppose it will take a bit longer than I expected to recover from my captivity. We’ll have to pick this up later.”

Wrenching Loki’s face toward his own, the stranger planted a slobbery kiss on the other man’s lips. As Thor wrenched himself to his feet with a bellow of rage, the naked stranger leaped into the air, launching himself through the hole that Thor’s hammer had punched through the wall. The wood imploded in a rain of debris as the stranger continued on like it wasn’t even there.

Natasha shook off the last of her paralysis – finally! – and staggered to her feet. She rose just in time to see a shimmer of red magic crawl over the stranger’s body. In a blink, where there was a man sailing through the air like an arrow, a massive horse landed on the ground. The beast didn’t so much as pause at the impact – odd, as Natasha didn’t know much about horses, but she was sure their ankles were pretty fragile, and the creature hit the ground with a substantial amount of force. Yet, in the time it took Thor to take up his weapon again and race over to the new gaping hole in the stable, the stallion had already disappeared over the horizon.