A/N: Where Loki Returns!
The Return to Asgard
Chapter 7
Whatever Clint thought he should find as Loki's prison was exactly the reality he faced. In his greatest dreams he imagined the silver-tongued fool to be wrapped in the talons of a slobbering rabid beast. The cells would be nestled in layers of unwelcoming catacombs with the heat thick enough to crush a soul. He wished for a layer of the underworld so epic it couldn't be described without a shutter running through a spine. And that was precisely what Clint was awarded.
Following his guide, Gulfurn, the two headed east into the Asgardian capital proper. They kept to the icy rivers bank as it flowed beneath the building's edges and into the lower sewers. Together the men slipped between the pipe's grate and descended into the very bowels of Asgard.
The world was full of musk and death. The stench of rot clung to their clothes and carried with them as they descended further and further into the necropolis. A sole bridge of stone led onward and down. Stalactites descended from the domed ceiling like fingers of Frost Giants. They dripped with the hidden water flows from the ocean above them. Beneath the narrow bridge corresponding pierces of rock erupted from the floor. To fall would surely spell a world of pain and death. In his mind's eye, Clint could see Loki laying, sprawled across those sharp points like a contorted mannequin. Perhaps he shouldn't dwell too much on his hopes and dreams.
"How much further?" Clint asked.
"Another league, no more." Gulfurn replied. "If he should require, I may carry the Brother of Asgard."
Clint gave him a strained look. "Carry me? Who told you I need to be carried?"
"I apologize, Clint of Barton, I merely assumed—I would not have offered—Accept my—"
Clint waved his hand. "Whoa, easy Sir Galahad. I'm kidding, alright? I'm perfectly capable of walking, though, so don't try and coddle me. Would Thor make you carry him?"
"Son of Allfather? Why, never."
"Good, just treat me like that. I'm not a piece of glass or something."
"I have merely been instructed that humans require a touch of delicate nature."
"Yeah, so don't hurl me at a wall or something. And spare me the royal pleasantries too."
"Yes Brother of—"
"And what's with all this "Brother of" crap? Who started that one? Heimdall? Don't answer that, just call me Clint, alright? I know I'm probably not what you expected but sometimes that's a good thing."
A quiet contemplation descended over the Asgard warrior as he analyzed just what it was he had been expecting in the man he had heard so much of. Clint of Barton was supposed to be among Midgard's elite. An archer and marksman without compare in perhaps all the realms. He was shorter than Gulfurn expected. His hair was not what one of Asgard would typically fashion. His raiment was black and nothing more than functional. If one were to see the man without Sleiphner's bow, his importance could never be estimated. Gulfurn struggled with himself at wondering whether this man ever had the power to wield Mjolnir as many claimed he had.
"Sir Galahad, this is not my name."
Clint looked up at the man. They had traveled nearly an hour without any further words passing between them. "It seemed a fitting choice."
"But I do not comprehend."
"Explaining it won't help much." Clint said to the warrior's discontent.
"It is a shame the words of Midgard could fail at such application. Is it true that Allfather's son has taken a woman of Midgard? Is she of the same metal of Lady Sif?"
Clint grinned at the new turn of conversation and for the remainder of their spiraling descent into the bowels of Loki's personal cell. They spoke of Midgard and Thor, and all the troop of Avengers Clint had left behind. The fog that had descended on him during his first stay on Asgard was threatening to rise again. Before it had simply overtaken his mind and kept him from trivialities such as thinking about his friends from home. Since he had experienced the fog before, he was more prepared to stave it off now. Even speaking of home kept the memory fresh. He would not soon forget again.
But there was a freedom he loved about this place. The freedom to lose oneself to everything other worldly. To, for a time, become someone else. A Brother of Asgard.
"Hollo there!" Gulfurn called into the wide cavern they entered, now past the sharp edges of the earth bridge. They descended further down a rocky highway, similar to the snaking California road Clint always wanted to drive on one day.
No reply came to his initial call, but the third and fourth that followed were well received from the other end of the journey. Two Asgardian men flanked the doorway. They were nearly the same height as the mantel. In their hands were battle axes Clint would hazard to face.
"Hollo, I say? Is there Hogun about?" Gulfurn asked.
From within the bolt hole a voice returned to him. "Who calls?"
"Gulfurn of Gundergrant," Clint's guide replied. "And the warrior of Midgard, Brother of Asgard, Clint of Barton the Archer."
Clint gave a sidelong look at his fascinating new found title. He had no idea he was "Of" so many different realms before.
To that declaration Hogun himself appeared in the entryway of Loki's prison. His mace hung in a thin leather strap at his side, and his traditional helmet lay absent for now. Covered in a blue set of chest armor and black laced boots he was more the warrior now than when Clint saw him drunk at an Asgardian party the last night they met.
"Clint of Barton!" Hogun exclaimed, and for an Asgardian taken to much milder manners, any form of exclamation from him was worthy of surprise. He rushed Clint and drew him into an embrace.
"Hogun, my friend!"
"By Thor's Thunder, how did you happen here?"
"Well, you've said it already."
The warrior was nodding and smiling. "Yes, of course. But a fortunate time. How have you happened here? To the Catacombs of Temberly I refer."
Clint hiked a thumb backward to Gulfurn of Gundergrant while they entered the prison antechamber together. "Wagren loaned me a companion for the journey, but enough of that. I need to know what has happened? Fandral has not been recovered to my understanding and is there and insurrection to release Loki?"
They were standing in a cave of sorts now. The cathedral ceiling carried their voices in an arc. Light was cast by the blazing wall sconces lining the glass wall of Loki's prison. Clint knew what form was waiting behind that sheet of glass. He knew the entire winding way down here that he had come to confront and felt he still hadn't enough time to ready himself.
Hogun seemed to feel his pause and closed in beside him. "The concern is there, yes. It is evident in all the moves made by the underground guard. I have kept these men to a number small. The fear of Loki's confederates rising behind the lines of war even affects those thoughts of Odin."
Clint nodded once. His eyes were fixed within the prison cell. Two bare feet were propped at the end of a long slab. A mess of black hair peaked over the carved rock headboard. Between them was nothing to be seen. Clint felt like a child allowing his fears to be so pronounced in his features. Hogun remained ever tense at his elbow.
"My friend?" the Asgardian whispered.
Clint inclined his head. "Forgive me, Hogun. It's been a while."
"An understandable occurrence. Fandral . . . I have been rotting here in my need to seek out the location of my friend. Is there some knowledge you bring me of him?"
Clint moved away from Hogun's supporting shoulder. He approached the great cell before him. He had the vague memory of sitting on his bed one night years ago watching an old VHS copy of Silence of the Lambs. He was Clarice Starling, approaching the eternal cage of an absolute monster. But Loki wasn't a silent man eater. He was about to match wits with a silver-tongued alien devil. Hogun remained at his back, somewhat surprised by Clint's actions. But then again much of what Barton did came as a wonder. Humans truly were a unique, deep species with emotions that undulated like a Brakenfrigs tentacles. Behind Hogun the small battalion of prison wardens stood to attention. They didn't know what would result from this strange encounter, but preparedness was key.
As if sensing a new presence, the head of black hair ruffled sideways some. Now the angular pale nose sloped into view. A pair of long black eyelashes with a shag of hair keeping the eyes masked. Tight lips of pale pink slowly curved into a grin. When words formed from that mouth, they cut into the part of Clint's soul possessed only of nightmares. The words were cool, calculated, and formed precisely to completely unravel him. "Clint Barton." A pause to let Loki's uttering his name sink deep into the human's bones. "The archer here on Asgard."
Clint set his jaw in grim determination. "Nice to see your interior decorator took his courses in Hell."
Loki folded himself up and twisted until his feet were on the floor and his torso faced Clint. "What could have possibly brought the coward to my realm?" Loki asked himself more than Clint. Clearly the guards behind the man were disturbed at this exchange of verbiage. It was apparent on their faces they meant to interrupt, but respect . . . or was that fear? Loki wondered . . . that kept their mouths silent in the wake of the Archer. Regardless, it gave him very clear answers to see their reactions to this discussion.
"So, this is not your first appearance here." Loki guessed.
Clint grasped the tip of one of his bow limps and pulled it down past his shoulder until the riser was across his chest and the black string of Sliephner's mane pressed against his back. It was an answer without words.
In artificial shock, Loki's jaw unhinged. "What a positive show. Here, my pet returns and graces me with a weapon of Allfather." Two black eyes rested on Hogun's unmovable face. "Really, all you need do is open the door and Asgard will fall within the hour."
That got the guards shifting even more. Some began to murmur amongst each other but no soul was brave enough to order Clint away from the glass. A truly interesting turn of events to see.
"Just look at them. Clambering like the children they are. Falling at the golden heels of the archer of Midgard. Has the mighty Asgardian race fallen so low they stoop to such debauchery?"
"How's that wolf of yours feel? You know, after I lifted the Mjolnir and smashed his ribs until they shattered. How is that jaw I broke when I brought Mjolnir against it?" Clint fired back. That dreamy part of his mind was still quaking but it was getting smaller, quieter, the longer he stood and sparred with Loki.
Loki blasted to his feet. If he hadn't been stripped of everything that made him dangerous, the move would have sent Clint reeling backwards. But now, barefooted and reduced to the prisoner's tunic of shame he was simply . . . sad. Robbed of his power he was little more than a dog barking from behind his own fence. He made to bark now, but Clint didn't afford him the chance.
"Where is Fandral?" he shouted. The voice carried throughout the cavern. Even the men seemed to jump at the ferocity in it.
Loki looked at him curiously. "The toe-headed womanizer? Why, if you have failed to notice I am not in the position to gather much information."
"You know where he is. I know it better than anyone. If you let him die then—"
"—Then what?! Odin will never reduce himself to destroying his Frost Giant pet and to suggest torture would only bring the joy of watching you suffer with me to my heart."
"If I dragged you out of there and scalped you on that stone slab," Clint's hand swept to the side, indicating the exact one, "There would be nothing Odin could do to get here fast enough to save you. And if you think it would hurt me in any way to peel your skin back and see what a Frost Giant bleeds, then you're an idiot feeding into your own lies."
The cave grew quiet. Hogun gulped down the image that crossed his mind at the words of Barton, spoken with such utter conviction to make it nothing more plausible than truth. He would do everything he said, even worse if Hogun allowed it to happen. Now the shifting garrison stopped in place. They waited for orders, or someone braver to step in and prevent Clint from carrying out his promises.
"Now," Clint continued, "who is under your employ?"
"If I knew what you spoke, I still would not be persuaded to tell you."
Clint turned briefly to the men at his back.
"Open the door."
Loki laughed. "Oh, yes, do! Let's see how this turns out!"
Clint's piercing eyes focused on Hogun. There was nothing in them but hate and determination. "Open the door."
"Brother," Hogun began, unsure what he should say.
"Gulfurn?"
The escort shook his head vehemently and backed away. He was not about to be the cause of the human's demise, or Loki's access to an Asgardian weapon.
But Clint expected his wants to be refused. He had a single gambit to play. He'd seen a cell like this before, when he'd toured the room where the Destroyer had been housed, and knew exactly how to open the door himself. He also knew that even if Loki laid a hand on his bow, there was no way he could ever hope to use it. So, braving a few socks in the jaw by a super human warrior was all he had to do to shock Loki into submission before Clint really did begin to scalp him.
Clint accessed the door pad and suddenly the glass slid up and out from between them. Loki stumbled back a step, unsure of himself for a moment. The battalion was shouting now, rushing forward. Clint was faster. He pulled his bow into his hand and fired the first arrow for Loki's chest. The prisoner went of the defensive and used his phasing trick to shadow away. A duplicate of the trickster watched as the long missile passed through his body to his a wall.
The real Loki rushed behind Clint's back. The hands grabbed for the bow, even as the glass wall came crashing down again behind them. Clint was now sealed inside of the prison cell with Loki.
As Loki's searching hands grabbed the bow string, Clint let his weapon go. The bow dutifully dropped to the floor, taking with it ten slender fingers which found themselves pinned beneath the unmovable bow and the floor. In shock and pain, Loki screamed.
Clint stepped away, circling his prey for a moment. "Yeah, sucks don't it. Thank Thor for that little trick."
From his belt Clint extracted his long bowie blade. In the firelight its edge simply gleamed. He tapped it once or twice against his palm. "Well, I had intended to peel that skin off out there, but I guess here is good enough."
Loki pulled incessantly at his trapped fingers. His bare foot curled beneath him in his awkward stooped position and tried desperately to shove the bow away. But still he was trapped. His eyes were large, feral. His head whipped to the side to look imploringly at the men who just stood there and watched what the human did to him.
"What are you just staring at?" he screamed. "Get him away! Odin will murder all of you for this! Your names will be blotted from Asgardian history! How dare you assist this—AH!"
Clint grabbed a handful of Loki's hair and stretched his head back. The Frost Giant snarled and squirmed but Clint pulled back harder and now came up his knife. The sloped razor edge he aligned with the middle of Loki's brow.
"Forgive me if I do this a little choppy." Clint said his voice now dipped in determination. "It's my first real scalping. Would you prefer to keep your eyebrows?"
Now came the string of curses. Hogun could watch no more. It was obvious if the wall were to come up now, Loki would not escape. So he risked the prison door in order that he may save the silver-tongue from the Midgardian.
"Clint of Barton, please."
Clint ignored Hogun. His focus was on Loki alone. Their eyes were closed to all but each other. Blue spheres met blue and Clint knew he had Loki.
"Where is Fandral?" he demanded.
"I told you—"
Clint's knife eased cleanly beneath skin, producing a terrified scream. Hogun launched forward, his arms encompassed Clint's chest as if to drag him away.
"Who is working with you?" Clint roared.
Blood streamed down Loki's face. His imagination ran wild with what he could not see Clint's knife doing. "I do not—"
A clean slice of the knife from left to right. Loki screamed, horrified. Hogun's hands dragged Clint back, but Clint was still attached to Loki's scalp and Loki was still trapped to the floor by the Asgardian bow. Clint's words reverberated in the Frost Giant's mind. Scalped. Pulled apart. Ripped open. Blood pooling. Gleaming knife. Too far for Odin to ever reach.
Hogun shouted for help from the garrison who was already flooding the cell. They could pull Clint in half if given no other option but still, the favor of Odin won out. Who would they rather save? The Brother of Asgard? Friend of Thor and champion of Midgard or the deceiver Loki? The indecision was obvious in their lack of enthusiasm in getting the two apart.
"WHERE?"
Loki screamed. The bodies were collapsing around them, but still he was not free. They were feigning assistance. They would let this happen, allow this mad man to kill him or worse and that would be the end of him. Loki's words defied him. his voice erupted without want of the repercussions should he survive the wrath of Barton.
"Arabachy!"
The hurried movements stopped. Clint released Loki's hair. The prisoner flung forward, heaving against the floor.
"The Flaming Falls?" Clint pressed.
Loki seemed to nod, but Clint wouldn't take that as a simple answer. He shrugged Hogun off of his arms and stepped around to face Loki once more. This time Clint was in front of him, crouched down to be at eye level. The knife, slick with blood, lay teasingly between them.
"Fandral came to me on Midgard. Phased right into my room like you. How?"
Loki shook his head as if to say he didn't know.
Clint's hands struck out to grab him again, but Loki called mercy before he actually laid any hold of the Frost Giant.
"No, stay your hand! I alleged that I know not how he came to this power, and that is the truth I will swear to it. Only those of great will may perform the task and even that Thor-Mother Frigga will attest it true."
Clint relaxed on his haunches again. The men around him were unsure what to do beside wait and listen. This moment was truly unprecedented.
"Fine, then if he could do it before, why didn't he?"
Loki scoffed. "A warrior three? Capable of that? You must have been fed rocks or crushed in your skull once to many times by that red-headed wench—"
Clint flipped his knife in his hands and let the handle create a new scar along Loki's cheek.
The Frost Giant turned his head back slowly. "Now, that hurt."
"Talk, or else I'll start playing this dance all over again. You said Fandral couldn't do it alone. Who on Asgard could?"
A stray curse, this time from Hogun.
Clint turned his attention upward. "You have someone in mind?"
"The Enchantress." Loki and Hogun said in unison.
It was useless for Clint to try and understand them now, so he moved the conversation on to his next topic. He demanded again knowledge of who was helping Loki on the inside of the city, but for that particular note, the silver-tongue stopped singing. Even with a booted-foot grinding his ten fingers further into the floor, Loki clammed up. The likelihood of giving up his confederate was slim. Regardless, the outcome of Clint's little one-on-one was remarkably profitable. He at least had a heading now, whether that happened to be the real location of Fandral or merely one of Loki's tricks.
Clint flicked his head as a clip indication to those with him to move out. So they did, one by one exiting the glass and rock prison until there was none behind save Clint and Loki and the Asgardian bow between them.
"Well, has this not been a wonderful bit of retribution for the human of admirable heart?" Loki asked quietly enough that Clint was the only one to hear him. "I hope you understand, that when I am liberated of these shambling fools there will be no corner of this or any realm you can bury yourself in which I will not find you."
Clint patted Loki's bruising cheek. "Sure, Ice-Brains. I look forward to the day you and me can finish this little thing of ours."
Clint stood, leaving his bow where it rested and exiting the cell. Not knowing what to do, the others followed along after him. The glass wall dropped closed again. With the flick of a few fingers, Clint's bow disintegrated into thin air. In the blink of an eye it reappeared in Clint's hands. He slid it over his chest again.
"Thank you for your cooperation."
Oh what scintillating action!
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