A/N: I had a really wonderful time writing this one-shot. This is my first Avengers fan fiction. A special thanks goes out to ChaosandMayhem and ShahbanouScheherazade for their support and beta magic. :o)

Disclaimer: I have no claim to The Avengers franchise. However, the original plots are owned by me.

Enjoy!

The Trickster's Gambit

She'd found it.

After all these years, all the study, all the effort – from guards bribed, to towers climbed, to bullets evaded – Natasha Romanoff had finally discovered the location of the most mysterious ruin in all of Russia. And soon – maybe tomorrow – she would reach it.

Creeping through thick forest in the dead of night, she clutched her small leather satchel even more tightly against her side. Inside it was a yellowed, fragile piece of parchment, jagged around the edges faded with age, and priceless. To anyone else, it was an illegible old drawing, but Natasha knew better. The page, which she had found in a place far, far away from her home, matched two other parcels already in her possession. When joined together, she had no doubt they would make up three-quarters of an ancient map – the three most important quarters; the ones that would show the way to what would be the discovery of her life – the castle of Koschei the Deathless.

It was a legend: a deserted palace filled with treasure, inhabited by the bones of a man that couldn't die, but more importantly, filled with the history of a lost kingdom. Many doubted its existence, believing a story so far-fetched had to be myth.

But this was the big one.

Natasha could prove her father right…vindicating them both, because the map wasn't a myth or a fairy tale. It was real, and she had it.

Well, most of it.

"As much as I need," she muttered. "It has to be enough."

The new piece showed the exact location of the castle and part of the long treacherous path that led to it, until it wound off the page, onto that elusive fourth quarter. Natasha had discovered the first piece of the map inside the lining of an ancient dress, folded into a tiny square, fragile and dry. She had been on surveillance mission with S.H.I.E.L.D. in a museum of the lost Bosporan kingdom in St. Petersburg, which only existed in history books, its lands having been gobbled up by its neighbors centuries ago.

The dress had come into her hands by accident – the map along with it. Since then, she had made it her mission to find the rest of the map, searching every record and speaking to the last few descendants of the Bosporans. She'd traveled the lands, scoured great libraries and studied old texts until finally, she found another piece hidden behind an old painting.

Behind her, an owl hooted. Another night animal howled.

A twig snapped.

Her joy fading, Natasha froze and listened.

Silence.

But that didn't mean no one was there.

With stealthy purpose, she quickened her pace, sticking to shadows, alert for any movement. The starry sky provided enough light to guide her, but also made her too easily visible to any pursuer.

She was being followed. She knew that. She'd known it for weeks before she'd left the States. Whoever it was might have been at the border, patient and determined, waiting for her to return when the moon waxed full.

She also knew why she was being followed.

Spying the shapes of buildings in the nearest village – through which she'd passed weeks ago when she'd left for her mission – she walked even faster. It boasted a small, clean inn and a less than clean tavern with palatable food. She could actually see its pitched roof from where she stood, and breathed a sigh of relief. During the time she had been gone; she'd had horrible visions of the place burning down and shaken apart by a certain rampaging giant.

But no, there it stood in the distance, the tavern with the old stone floor, which had a loose stone beneath the back table. Hopefully, no one would be seated there, so she could sit, warm her chilled body, wrap her hands around a mug of mulled wine, and retrieve the other two pieces of the map, which she's hidden beneath that loose stone.

She still wasn't sure if she'd made the right choice in stashing the pieces there, but a month ago, during the brief time that the border was open, she had been forced to act quickly. To her surprise, the government had set up inspection stations at the major crossings. They would be watching, and she couldn't have risked them finding the mythical map and misconstruing her intent, she was merely holding onto them for safekeeping.

They're safe. They've got to be.

Anticipating that exciting moment when the three pieces would form a new picture – one which, she felt sure, would be enough to show her the way to the castle – Natasha continued through the forest, a stone's throw from the edge. Safety beckoned, as did comfort. Yet the eerie feeling that she was being watched persisted.

And she suddenly realized why.

A creature lunged at her from the trees – a wolf-beast – silent with deadly intent. Its razor sharp teeth extended and fierce claws ready to strike. Long and lithe, yet extremely muscular, it was the epitome of strength and power. Its familiar eyes widened, surveying her intently, alternating between shades of emerald green and gray - almost mesmerizing.

The closeness of the beast, the stench of blood and violence, in the blink of an eye triggered a change she hadn't wanted. The lure of the wolf was almost seductive. As its sharp teeth glistened with the image of her reflection; her chest rose and fell. Anticipation rippled through every fiber of her being. The beast seemed to acknowledge her and melted into the shadows as the power around them built to a fever pitch.

The very air crackled with energy, shuddering like an earthquake in the sky. Split and separated – opening upon another dimension was the inverted end of a tornado wind. As the winds drew Natasha across the threshold, the beast materialized not more than a meter from her face.

An illusion.

The beast was in clear view then, making deep-throated noises as it stood on its hind legs. It reached for her, catching the edge of her jacket to pull her off balance. As she stumbled, Natasha slid her 10mm out of its holster, easy as undressing, slipped off the safety and fired her first round. For a moment, she held her breath as the beast fell backward.

When the endorphin rush settled, Natasha realized that she had missed her mark, grazing just beneath the beast's eye. As her foe lay momentarily stunned by the blast, she made a break toward the immense forest of trees that towered above her.

Thick and crooked black trunks reared angrily from the lichen and leaf-covered soil of the forest floor, crowding in on Natasha as she sprinted, reaching out to trip her feet with their cunning, twisted roots and snagging her shoulders and arms with their sinister boughs. She was desperately trying to find a way through the trees, but no matter how hard and fast she ran, the forest swarmed thicker about her, striving to impede her progress.

She could hear the green-eyed beast that hated her – that wanted to kill her – gaining ground behind her, crashing unobstructed through the trees while she had to fight for every step.

Natasha began to lose her temper, frustration slowly overcoming her fear as she pushed her way through the thick, black forest. More and more she could feel herself waning, her head beginning to reel. Her legs were turning into molten lead - hot and heavy. Ferocious sounds echoed all around. She lurched to a halt beside a massive Whalebone Oak, slapped it as hard as she could in her all-consuming rage, and then leaned against it, palms tight against its rough bark.

For a moment there was nothing but her fury. She felt an ominous presence of death all around her, the forest filling with the thick stench. She turned back behind the tree and drew her breaths slowly again; the spoiled dead scent swept through the surrounding woodland.

She had to find a way out, but she didn't know where to go.

Re-emerging, the beast ignored sharp branches and prepared to fight, facing Natasha with its own weapons now brought to bear. Its massive jaw hung open, dagger teeth ready and jaws held forward. The beast bellowed; no panic or fear in its long, tortured notes. She saw the equivalent of a grin on its face, taunting her; she sensed it.

Placing her frustration aside, The Black Widow charged forward, rolling with the beast, coming up face-to-face with glistening teeth and a growl that cut through the thick of her breath. The attack was more earnest – the enormous black body, outweighing its prey many times over, like a huge muscular canine. But she was more agile. Springing to her feet, Natasha twirled and drew her gun to her hand in a whirlwind of flying claws and snapping incisors.

Finally, she opened fire.

The wolf-creature flew back, hitting a tree, and landing hard on the ground. It turned its head toward her and began dragging itself across the earth toward her. "Don't give up easily, do you?" she said, unperturbed by the gruesome scene. She released another bullet in its chest and one into its stomach. "Well, I don't either." The body collapsed in on itself as if the bullet had opened a black hole.

There was a blast of light and then, the wolf-beast disappeared.

Several long moments passed. Slowly, Natasha felt her adrenaline diminish and her old self return – the self that was fighting for survival. Within seconds, the fear was gone, her insides steadied. "What the hell was that?" she said in a furious tone, finding a frightening well of anger. Anger at herself for feeling the way she did. Anger because she had been caught off guard and terrified. She had trained for this. Nothing but heartache and disaster lay ahead if she allowed the encounter to affect her.

"A toy and an amusement." The Liesmith emerged from the darkness with a mocking slant to his mouth. "For old times' sake."

Those burning green eyes were a dead giveaway. "Loki, you bastard," she whispered fiercely.

"Agent Romanoff." He laughed drily, holding out his arms as he sauntered toward her. "Are you really so surprised to see me?"

"I didn't expect you so soon."

With a wave, the oak's twisted roots magically rose upward and wrapped around her waist. "Ah, but you knew I'd come," he teased. Natasha let out a long-suffering breath. He actually believed he could do exactly as he pleased. The tides had certainly turned.

Frantically, she struggled to wriggle out of her bindings, which tightened around her almost convulsively, but to no avail. "Is this another one of your tricks?" she asked hoarsely.

A clone appeared at his side. "Magic, in its simplest form, isn't a trick. It's more of a secret, and I am its master…

"Some magics tend to work by themselves, but on occasion…" said another clone that appeared beside her. "You have to create the monster and cast him out," he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. He cocked a brow and flashed his wicked grin – another small victory.

"I'm not in the mood for games. Show your true self!" Natasha ordered. "Or are you too much of a coward to face me?"

She heard his breath whistling in and out of his nostrils before she saw him; she spun around to see the real conjurer deep within the shadows. His green eyes shone like two empty wells. Loki strode out, hands clasped behind his back and his cloak swaying behind him in the breeze like a black cloud threatening disaster.

"Why are you here?" She frowned at her captor impatiently. "Why the sudden interest in my whereabouts?" A drop of sweat rolled down her forehead. Natasha pulled at the roots twice; they tightened around her wrists. Her fingertips tingled.

"Struggling makes it worse," he advised, walking around Natasha in a circle. "I'm very disappointed in you. I thought you knew me well enough by now."

"You know nothing about me."

Loki backed off, laughing. "Oh, you wound me so! But alas, I do know you're a very long way from home."

The Liesmith came a step closer, an arm's length away. In the moonlight, she could see his face clearly: perfect nose and skin, the lean contours made even more captivating by his strange eyes. He was wounded; a nasty gash ran down his slender face. His neck and Asgardian leathers were covered in blood. It was a different man who stood before her then. Awash with his guises, his own uncertainty, it seemed as if he had abandoned them all and stood exposed to his own eyes. It didn't seem as if he liked what he saw.

"You could scream at the top of your lungs and only bats and spiders would hear you." She shivered at the deadly, serious tone. He paused, a strange smile painted his lips. "Fret not. I'm here before you for an entirely different purpose."

"Revenge?"

"Entertainment." It was a statement of fact, edged with the slightest hint of anger. She may have played him for a fool once, but in the long run, he believed he would win the war that waged between them. "I know you're not fond of being pursued by large, dangerous beasts," he continued, "and, honestly, I find it rather amusing to watch you cower in fear."

To her mortification, heat rushed to her face. She was glad the darkness hid the scarlet blush that had flooded her cheeks. Natasha regarded him gravely for a moment. "I'm not afraid of you," she said, chewing on her lip, "just afraid of what I don't know."

He leaned back into his stance, appraising her. His gaze lingered for a long moment on her flushed face. He hesitated, and then advanced on Natasha with unspoken malice. "You should fear me if you find obedience to me difficult. You've no idea what I can do to you if you make me angry." His eyes turned a particularly icy shade of blue and, for a moment, she thought she really might have something to fear from him. She wished she were not affected by him so. She didn't want to feel that churning hunger inside her, that pull on her senses just being in his presence.

"Pray tell, where are your friends now?" he taunted. His expression sparkled with deadly mirth as he stared, challenging her, attempting to divine her secrets. "Your Avengers? … Your S.H.I.E.L.D.?" he prodded further. "Surely they would have opposed this ill-advised venture… beyond their reach, all by your lonesome."

Natasha flashed him a sly smile, returning his glare. "I'm a big girl. I can handle myself."

He brushed past her; his mouth in a hard line. "Hardly," Loki rebuked crisply, slanting a sardonic glance over his shoulder. Natasha swallowed hard, struggling to match his indifference, but the contemptuous glint in his eyes warned her that he wasn't fooled by her cool demeanor. "Just what this insignificant realm needs – another self-anointed savior, and a rather flawed one at that."

The roots tightened yet another twist. Her head felt dizzy. Bound to a tree, he might consider her his to possess, but she didn't really believe he would hurt her. Although she couldn't be sure of anything, and that uncertainty mixed with the tension between them ignited it.

Slowly, he strolled back to her; face expressionless, but his eyes were burning as they held hers. Fascination. That was the only word for this. "Don't be angry, Agent. We're more alike than not," his voice whispered. "Each of us suffering. Each of us being consumed within our private purgatories, haunted by our pasts – though yours are somewhat less noble than mine." She was utterly focused on him, captivated by him – captive both in her mind and her unexpected physical response. In that moment, she didn't think she could or would resist anything he wanted of her.

For countless, endless seconds, there was silence.

In the eerie calm she saw his face relax, taking on a look of casual indifference. "It's time to finish what we started some time ago," he said evenly, waving his hand to release her from his spell.

She stared mutely at him as she regained her breath. He enjoyed her weakness and discomfort – time for a new tactic. Slyly, she bit her lip, summoning the resolve to slowly press her hand on the side of his face. She could feel his jaw clench as she wiped the blood away from his cheek. "You're right. It's time."

In an instant, the trigger of Natasha's second glock pistol was pulled and a bullet powered through its chamber, but only made it as far as the shield he held up. The bullet disintegrated upon impact, leaving only a violet vapor. Natasha recognized the look of sheer amusement on his face. She pulled the trigger again and yet another bullet turned into dust.

Loki grabbed her by her hair and pressed her forcefully against the oak. Cold, tormented eyes stared deep into her soul from the hard mask of his face. "Insolent wretch! This is where my disappointment lies. Do you truly believe me an amateur? Your energy," he mused for a moment, "you strike me as a woman with a very powerful, intense amount of it. It radiates from you, as it does me."

Natasha felt his breath on her face, smelled the male scent of him – clean sweat, warm damp skin, iron and blood. She glanced away, seeing out of the corner of her eye a playful, mischievous grin upon his face. "What am I?" He half-whispered, moving toward her, towering over her, and fear assaulted her. He was too close. "Tell me!"

She flinched, struggling for air as his eyes locked with hers, feeling her heart slam into her ribs. "A monster."

"You flatter me." His mouth brushed over hers, lightly, experimentally, sending an uncontrollable shimmer of response running through her. He laughed softly, knowing that he was going to meet not an ounce of resistance; his mouth came down on hers. Fierce, enticing, and sensual. Dark fires ignited within her – a fire fed by the taste and smell of him, heating her blood; the feel of his hot mouth and his body pressed against her. An uncontrollable melting tide of submission flooded through her.

Finally, he released her and stepped back. That cocky grin returned to irritate her further. "I'm the Big Bad Wolf."

When he looked at her again, the devouring, seductive look had faded from his expression – vanished like a whisper in the wind. "Will you enlighten me, then?" Loki asked, as if nothing had transpired between them. No more flirtatious looks, no more half-glimpse of the sun - only cool, officious Loki Odinson staring back at her.

He raised a confident hand before her and three pieces of tattered parchment appeared out of nowhere between his fingers. "Tell me, Agent Romanoff, does it feel safer, hiding yourself away in things that happened thousands of years ago, instead of facing the future before you?" There was a bite of sarcasm in his voice.

She inclined her head, eyes widening in panic. The map.

Playfully, he held the pages out to her, letting the edges graze her outstretched fingertips, momentarily basking in the irrefutable amount of control he possessed over her. "Come now, I like a soldier who speaks her mind plainly."

Natasha's mouth fell slack, the burning in her face spread to every extremity. Without meaning to, she made a small cry of frustration and embarrassment, and Loki jolted visibly at the quiet sound. Straight lines gave way to swirls in her head. He was slowly dismantling every bit of her self-composure and pride.

He leaned forward, his breathing slightly heavy. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but then closed it, glancing away from her. When he was satisfied, he gave a stern, considering nod. "Very well."

With a flick of his wrist, the parchment burst into flames.

She released a tense breath, one that she hadn't realized she's been holding. "No!" Her face wrinkled as she fought back the tears that swelled inside her.

Gently, he stroked his hand down over her hair, tilting up her face to his; eye's glowing with a primeval fire. "Fairy tales are for children."