Cliché as it might sound, it all started with a trip to Asgard. Because, really, how else would the story start?
There were extensive damages done to the city in 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 the damages were extensive. There was just too much for one man, even a billionaire and over all amazing specimen of human kind, to do enough.
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 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.
"I am glad to hear it is to your liking, friends," Thor said.
"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 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 flare throughout the rest of the city. Yet Tony was fixated like it was the most fascinating thing he'd seen in his life.
"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 in confusion, then shrugged and nodded.
Thor stepped forward so he blocked 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 that bordered on anger. Because, Asgard had to have better standards to treat their prisoners, right?
"No. 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?"
"Stark," Thor said in a warning tone, bristling.
"What horse thing?" Steve asked.
"Norse mythology, says Loki 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 then perked up. "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. 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 Clint's. 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.
#
Odin and Fury obviously hadn't come to 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 hint of irritation that leaked in his voice at the lack of resolve in the situation.
"The money's a good first step, but it only fixes the damage done in this incident. You aren't the only people out there." Thor's head snapped up at the phrase, and his eyes narrowed. "Something like this could 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 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.
"Watch your tone, mortal. It is only my generosity that is getting you the payment you so desperately need."
"Generosity?!" Clint repeated, half incredulous and half raging.
"Sir, your son destroyed a major city. Hundreds of people died, and millions were endangered because of his actions. We'd hoped you were helping atone for what Loki did," Steve said calmly. His 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 place."
"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 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. Clint shook in barely retrained rage from his seat beside her.
"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 and 'face justice' for?" Tony asked.
"Treason against the throne of Asgard. The attempted destruction of Jotunheim, despite the treaty, and kin-slaying. 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.
Clint knew that tone. It was one Fury used on rookies, his 'remove yourself or I'll remove you myself' tone. 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 Clint 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. Don't try my patience."
Clint stalked out without another backward glance, and barely restrained himself from slamming the door behind him. He nearly ran back to his rooms. That door he did slam, and he found no small amount of vindictive pleasure in the act. His limbs trembled. His attempts at calming breathes 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. 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.E.I.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, focus on the details, he told himself.
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 princes' 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, and eased 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. Clint quirked an eyebrow in confusion. "Those people will never be able to really put themselves back together. But the only way they can try is if we convince these people 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 least. Just keep it in mind, Clint."
"Tasha, come on. I know how to control myself."
"Clint—"
"I'm tired, Tasha. 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, but 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 settled, as it consistently had the last few months, on 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.E.L.D just out of college. He was just starting in the agency, one of those faceless drones on the deck of the Hellicarrer.
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 councilor 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 told her. 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 the 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.
There were so many stories like Bobby's. Men and woman 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. To a man like Loki, that was worse than death, and his suffering was enough to avenge the dead. 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 late in the morning, when foot traffic in the city was at its lowest 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, Natasha swiftly step 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 linger 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, even after she'd talked to him. 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 pf 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 source about Loki, and he took his bow with him without telling anyone…Fuck it. She turned and jogged to Steve's room.
She knocked on the door with a little more force. He was rumpled but alert when he answered the door. He blinked at her in a mixture of confusion and lingering sleep.
"I think Clint's gone to do something stupid."
One of the best things about the Captain were those solider instincts. Even with sleep still clouding his mind and his own overly-complex outfit, 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.