The Trickster: Ragnarok

by: Shadow Chaser

Disclaimer:

I do not own any characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. All characters belong to Marvel Entertainment, Marvel Comics, and Disney. I am not writing this story for profit, only for my own (twisted) amusement. I will try to return the characters unharmed, but some they might have a few scuff marks.

Story:

Chapter 16

Sleep had been elusive as Loki traced the edging along the wall of one of the many hallways in the tower. It was surprisingly spartan when he expected Stark's ostentatious flare to override common sense. He could feel the subtle spellwork holding as he traced the edgings of the wall in his meandering walk. That was perhaps a saving grace, he supposed, though he also dreaded that it had been an automatic reaction when he had felt it begin just before Hel had appeared. He had no doubts that she was able to see it, and perhaps it was also the reason for her appearance, but what it accomplished for her he did not know. It hardly accomplished anything for him.

He had briefly stopped in the medical ward that Sif had been placed in to recover from her wounds, but had left just as quickly, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. He had only assured himself that it was because Sif had delivered Gungnir and Sleipnir to him that he was making sure she was recovering. Thor would have sat next to her and she would have appreciated his brother's presence instead of his if she woke up.

He had no desire to question Sleipnir at the moment, the freshness of the wound that was the knowledge of Asgard's fall still on in his mind. Plus, Loki pragmatically knew that he would sooner rip apart the bound mage than question him for the part he played in Asgard's downfall. It would be very Thor-like to currently go and hit the mage several times as punishment and he had no desire to emulate his brother and his oafish, bullheaded ways. He felt restless, after Hel's talk and after seeing the conjured illusion that Muunin had summoned for the Avengers to see, and so wandered the hallways and floors of Stark's tower. He knew that a trip to the libraries or even to the private gardens on Asgard would allow him to sate the restlessness he felt, but there was no such equivalence here. Rarely, would he stop by the combat ring, as that was where Thor and his friends inhabited and trained.

Loki suddenly paused at the quiet hiss of double doors opening to his right. He absently lifted his fingers from tracing the walls as he peered in, having found that some of the doors on the floors he had been wandering on did the same thing if he was nearby. It seemed that there was some kind of invisible sensor at work, much like some of the doors on the Helicarrier. He had absently spelled it and found a small infrared sensor that used the basest laser had been the trigger. It was rudimentary use of magick, but effective for the primitive mortals he supposed.

Normally he would not have paid much heed to the doors sliding open, but this one opened to something that looked cavernous and barely lit. It was unlike the smaller rooms and labs he had found himself in and he stepped in, his curiosity getting the better of him. He could hear the faint sound of something metallic grinding, followed by soft punching-like sounds as he went deeper into the cavernous room. It looked a little like the main training salle on Asgard, except there were things he vaguely recognized from what he had picked from Agent Barton's mind years ago regarding primitive Midgardian culture.

Loki considered leaving the training salle-like room when he felt it at the same time he heard the grinding sound turn into a louder whine. The whine was abruptly cut off by the sudden crunch of something

"...Shit..." he heard the muttered Midgardian curse. He peered around a corner to see the metal-armed soldier with the red star etched onto the side, stand up from where he had apparently cratered the ground with his arm. He could feel the tingle of an oddly-familiar magick exuding from the metal arm, before it faded at the same time the whining sound dissipated.

However, before he could cloak himself in shadow and leave, he saw the metal-armed man suddenly look up, a hunted look on his face as he stared right at him. Loki managed to keep his own surprise from showing at the fact that the metal-armed man was able to see him, even though he was pretty sure that he was nearly blended into the darkness of the dimly lit room. The hunted look did not fade, but Loki could clearly see the man visibly struggling with masking it as he stared unblinkingly at him. To his surprise there was no sign of fear, of hatred, of the loathing, contempt, and disgust he was used to seeing in all of the other Avengers' faces – Romanov and Banner's included. It was as if the man was not afraid of him, but afraid of himself.

Loki could not help the fact that his curiosity was a little more piqued by the man's lack of reaction to his presence. He was so used to the Avengers' looks that he had all but put it out of his mind, but this man... He vaguely remembered that the metal-armed man had been with the Captain and the one who wore wings when he had first arrived and had fearlessly thrown a dagger at him without even a second thought or hint of whom he was; but it had been clearly in defense to the Captain before being seemingly placated by the soldier's words.

The next time he had seen him was when the Avengers had arrived by their quinjet and had he had leapt into the fray, not even deigning him a second glance before fighting along side him – whereas Loki knew for a fact that even with decisive blasts, shields thrown and what not, there was always the barest amount of hesitation in their movements whenever they fought alongside him. It was as if this man did not care one whit about who he was, and while it would have normally prickled something disdainful in Loki, along with a healthy dose of annoyance, this time, it only prickled curiosity.

The last time he had been treated so...neutrally...was by Fenrir and Jormungandr. And he had known of Fenrir's body of work and skill-set before introductions had been rendered. Back then, he would have expected Fenrir to have known who the second Prince of Asgard was, as it would have seemed prudent throughout the nine realms, but the assassin and his younger brother had treated him like he was just someone who was not high-born and instead, as someone who was completely neutral. Even Death had not treated him like such when he had learned from her, nor Hel.

It would have been so easy for Loki to dismiss the metal-armed man as one of the foolish mortals, and resume his sleepless wandering – and he was sorely tempted to – but he did not know why he decided against it. Instead, he took a step outside of the elongated shadows that he thought had hid him. "You do not see me like the others," he said bluntly, hoping it got a reaction or even a protest out of the other man. It would only prove that he was just as idiotic as the rest of Thor's friends.

"No history," the man did not move an inch from his kneeling position, and Loki raised an eyebrow at his answer. That was not the answer he was expecting.

"Surely I must have done something to earn your ire-"

"Was on ice," the man replied softly, his voice completely and utterly neutral, "HYDRA. Baron von Strucker and Vasily Karpov."

Loki frowned, "Sleipnir and Baldr." He thought a little more, studying the man's countenance and lack of expression. There was still the hunted look there, still directed at himself and not at him, before it occurred to him that the metal-armed man meant his words literally, "Cryogenics."

"No history," the metal-armed man repeated with the smallest of shrugs, as if it did not bother him, "heard about what you did, though."

"And yet you have no opinion," Loki scoffed in disbelief.

"Can't have an opinion until I have history," the metal-armed man replied, "got history with Strucker and Karpov. Seems to align with your opinion on them."

"And what," Loki found something off in the man's seemingly flippant manner and sneered, "do you think my opinion of them is?"

"Karpov took Thor," he replied as if it was the simplest answer ever and something in Loki flared in irritation.

"What of it?!" his initial curiosity had been replaced by an annoyance at the metal-armed man, all of his opinions of him as a hapless mortal, a stupid idiotic one who did not understand what was happening and was just as oafish as Thor came raging down all at once-

"You're not doing it for Asgard, not even for yourself, but for Thor," the metal-armed man's blunt words hit him just as he opened his mouth again and he shut it with an audible click. He glared at him as the metal-armed man pushed himself up from his kneeling position. Loki suddenly wanted to slam him back down into the kneeling position again and demand that he take back his words.

Something of what he had been thinking must have shown on his face as he suddenly registered the tiniest movement of the metal fingers gesturing the familiar universal sign for 'come at me.' It was as if the sudden boiling frustration that Loki did not know he had been feeling since Sleipnir's arrival at the throne room burst from a dam and he found himself reacting to the gesture. A very small part of him knew that he would not have given even a single time of day to such a goad, making him so much more like Thor, but he ruthlessly batted that part away as he conjured several daggers and threw them at the metal-armed man.

To his surprise, he saw the silvery arm flash upwards and his daggers dissipated harmlessly off of it, not even leaving a single scratch or mark. Just as suddenly, Loki registered the kick coming towards his face and immediately reacted, bringing up a hastily conjured dagger to block the blow as it crashed on his forearm. He slashed across, hoping to cut the cloth or at least get at the man's leg, but was surprised once more as the metal-armed man twisted and flipped, kicking him across the face. His neck snapped to the side as he grunted, the force of the blow stronger and more painful than he had expected. It felt like being sucker-punched by a bligesnipe and he felt himself stumbling away, absently wiping at the sting on his lip. Not one of the Avengers had even managed to physically him hard enough to draw blood; not even Captain America for all of his strength. Only the green monster known as the Hulk had come close.

It came away bloodied and Loki barked out a short quiet laugh. It was this man...this man with the metal-arm painted with a red star that had managed to not only hit him, but to also draw blood.

The metal-armed man straightened and stared at him, his brown eyes almost expressionless save for the barest hint of a challenging look in them. So, that was how it was to be played...and Loki found himself accepting the challenge as he felt the tingle of spells on his fingers, setting himself for the next round. He lashed out, sending a quick wave of spellwork that the metal-armed man dodged and absorbed with his magick-laced arm before charging at him, knife in hand.

But this time Loki was ready as he summoned his glaive from the spaces-in-between and swept the bladed end towards him, sending sparks into the air as it was blocked by the metallic left arm. He fired a blast of ice-bound magick as the man turned inward, dodging it before slashing at him with his knife. Loki blocked with the length of his glaive before flicking the butt end to knock the man off guard, but he leapt back with an inhuman speed that Loki had only seen on one other in the Avengers – the Captain himself.

The challenging look was back again, but this time, there was something oddly familiar about it. He brushed it aside as he fired a blast of ice towards the metal-armed man, a small smirk of triumph lifting the corner of his lips as he saw the metal arm itself being encased in a block of ice. However, his triumph was short lived as he suddenly conjured a shield to the glint that appeared in the other man's hand and fired projectile bullets at him. They pinged off of the shield and Loki barely had time to duck and throw up another guard as the metal-armed man charged at him, seemingly unaffected by the added weight his ice-encased arm must have been in.

He caught the cleaving blow of the icy arm against the shaft of his glaive as it broke and shattered chunks of ice all around them and Loki had the grin tightly at the prowess and forethought of the man's intelligence in using what should have normally been a disabling shot against him. The man was far more clever than the foolhardy mortals he normally associated them with. Not even a single Avenger could have thought of what he had just done he surmised as the man suddenly withdrew instead of pressing the advantage he clearly had.

Loki momentarily frowned at the retreat before it hit him as he recognized the challenging look and of also how the man was fighting and retreating. There was also the initial taunt of drawing him in... It was all feints, all ploys. The initial wash of frustrating anger and irritation he had felt for the man for his short, cryptic answers, gave way to a sense of wry – he dared not name it respect – regard. It was exactly what Thor sometimes did during their sparring in the training salle when they were younger – but became less and less frequent as they had grown up. It had also contributed to his decline of training with Thor, the Warriors Three, and Lady Sif. He had almost forgotten what it was like, the coterie working more in unison with each other than training with each other like warriors.

Loki allowed the smirk that had been tugging on the corner of his lips to fully bloom and set himself in a stance that he was all too familiar with as he held his glaive with one hand near him, his other outstretched. The metal-armed man only nodded once at his smile, his flesh-and-blood hand still holding the gun, leaving his metal arm free. That was the key as he glanced at it. He splayed his fingers out, sending forth several illusions of himself, all whom charged at the metal-armed man. The arm was clearly designed to absorb magick and he had no doubts that it was due to the properties inside it, which he still could not figure out why it was so familiar to him. He had been attacking from range with his magick and it seemed that though the man's attacks were stronger than most of the Avengers, the metal-armed man's arrogance in thinking that he would be defeated in a sparring match with physicality was about to be shattered.

At least that was the plan as Loki saw the metal-armed man set himself, glancing around him quickly at the conjured illusions charging at him. Loki drew the barest shadow over himself as he dodged to the right and launched his attack with his glaive-

Only to be intercepted by a quick brutal kick to the chest before the whining and hum of the metal-arm grabbed his glaive and threw him to the side. Shock flitted across him as he quickly recovered, rolling to his feet and ducking to the side to avoid an overhead ax-kick before he swept the bladed end into the man's chest and sent him across the floor. The screech of metal-on-the floor set his teeth on edge as the metal-armed man dug his hand into the ground to stop his momentum before lifting the hand up and stood up from his crouch with the barest of smiles on his face.

Loki could see that the glaive had cut into the man's body armor, a clear slash that parted cloth and fiber, but it seemed that his blow had not done much damage. So the man was adept at both close quarters combat and had the ability to negate the magick he threw at him. He was also adept at picking out his illusions even though Loki knew that he had conjured some of his best. Against his own feelings regarding the other Avengers, Loki found that his regard for this metal-armed man was growing a little. He was truly of his word, that there was no shared history between them, meaning no prejudices, and it showed by their brief clashes. He knew that no other Avenger, not even the green monster Banner had within him, would give him the time of day nor allow him the chance at such a 'sparring' after everything that had happened.

And something in him refused to believe that this was the case. This was not a charitable act, this was something- "Why?" he bit out, his initial annoyance and frustration rising up again even though a very small part of him yearned to leave it be; to take it for what it was. He quashed it without mercy. He was a monster, a Frost Giant, a Jotun, and killed millions of people because he was the nightmare that frightened children-

"Baldr never broke me," the metal-armed man replied with a steady look.

It hit Loki immediately as he blinked and took an unconscious step back. Realization flooded him at the metal-armed man's words as his mind raced with and against the possibilities. It was as if a very large puzzle piece just fitted together, making him see the whole of the situation as well as open up numerous questions and possibilities. He did not know what connection the metal-armed man had with Baldr, and truth be told, did not care one whit, but in other cases, it made so much sense. Loki was about to abruptly turn and leave without another word before he considered what the metal-armed man had just done.

He tilted his head in acknowledgment and muttered, "Excuse me." Without even deigning another glance at him, he turned on his heel, his glaive returning to the spaces in between and headed to the doors that slid open just as he approached-

And ran straight into the blond-haired, blue-eyed soldier, Captain Rogers.

"Uh, hey-"

Loki brushed past him with an arched look, noting the fact that the Captain looked bedraggled, as if he had been sleeping and abruptly woken up. His shield was in his hand and he looked concerned. He surmised that someone had alerted the Captain that he and the metal-armed man had been sparring in the makeshift training salle and the soldier had probably ran down here to ensure that the mortal had not been harmed. Pathetic and idiotic, the derisive thought passed through his head, though considering what he had learned about Captain Rogers and his glimpse into Baldr's plans...

"Sleipnir has a geas with Baldr," he said curtly before brushing past the bewildered look Captain Rogers shot at him as he rounded the corner. There was a particular so-called Sentinel of Asgard he had to question.

It took Steve a moment to pull himself out of the funk he had fallen into after Loki had turned the corner and left the area. When JARVIS had woken him up with a slightly concerned note about Bucky fighting Loki, he had feared the worst and had rushed down from his suite in the penthouse area. He had initially panicked when his shield was not by his bedside only to run into Clint who said that he had taken it and placed it next to Jormungandr in the common area. Steve did not have time to ask why as he found his shield next to the younger man who looked deathly pale, but seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He had taken it and rushed down several floors, only to find Loki in the midst of leaving.

Steve shook his head as he turned and looked at Bucky who was staring at him with, as far as he could tell, a mild look. "You okay, Buck?" he asked, staring pointedly at the jagged slash that was from the right side of his stomach to his shoulder. The body armor was clearly torn, revealing a plain tee-shirt underneath.

"I made a new friend," Bucky replied almost carelessly and Steve blanched.

"Bucky-"

"I'm pretty sure if we were both going at it, Stark wouldn't have a training room anymore," Bucky leveled him with a look before wincing, rubbing his forehead. Steve grimaced in consternation at the movement, realizing that with all that had been happening, his best friend was still fighting the programming that had been seared into his mind. He watched as his friend turned and stared at a point in the floor, absently scuffing it with a boot before walking deeper into the training room.

Steve followed, glancing over to where Bucky had been looking at and saw both a neat cratered remnant of concrete along with five parallel grooves. It was clear that the fight had an edge to it, and judging by the blast marks and what looked like patches of the floor and walls encased in ice, the fight had almost turned for the worse. He sighed as he switched his shield to his other arm and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "He hits like a brick," he commented absently, remembering his own fight with Loki three years ago, as he saw Bucky grab a towel and chug a whole bottle of water.

"He does," his best friend replied as he rotated his metal arm, the soft humming whine a little louder than Steve would have expected.

"Are you okay?" He got a glare in return before Bucky crushed the water bottle in his hands and threw it into the recycling bin across the training room. "Bucky, this is Loki we're talking about. I know you've only read the files on him-"

"Why are we helping him?" Bucky asked, his voice barely audible over the growl of words as he flicked his towel over his shoulder and turned to stare at him. Steve could see the crinkle of pain in them, and knew that his friend was fighting the programming, but he could not help but wonder if there was also something else behind the pain.

"...For Thor...because even if Loki doesn't want our help, we can at least mitigate some of the damage he will more than likely inflict on the Earth," he replied slowly and carefully.

"Why are you helping him?" his friend asked and Steve drew in a sharp breath. He knew Bucky was asking him directly about why he had told all of them what he had seen in the brief moments of lucidity under Baldr's control. What he had seen. He knew that he could have easily dismissed it, or even told Loki later in a more private setting, but he had said in openly when it had been hard for him. He knew what all of the reports said about Loki, even the ones the psychologists had analyzed and the ones officially on record. If Bucky had just read those, Steve knew what kind of conclusion he could come up with, and he knew that his actions were contrary to the basic knowledge to stay away from anything and everything that was Loki and instead, have Thor as the Asgardian liason so to speak.

"Because I can't be a hypocrite," he replied, staring at his best friend square in the eye and saw the barest twitch of a smile appear on his lips.

Bucky had received his unspoken message loud and clear – that for all of their differences, if he was hell-bent on helping Bucky get better - the Winter Soldier a known mass murderer and assassin - he would extend the same basic courtesy to Loki, another known mass murderer. That he could not, in good conscience, have his cake and eat it too; that he also might have seen bits of Bucky and bits of himself in Loki had everything in their lives not gone the way it had gone – that while on the surface, Loki sneered at everything they were, he was lost without Thor. Because if Steve was able to bring back Bucky, his best friend and not-by-blood brother, with help from his friends, then he sure as hell was not going to give up on Loki or Thor.

He tilted his head a little as he studied Bucky who was staring back at him with the faint smile on his lips. Shaking his head he realized that what Bucky had done with Loki, was basically the same thing he had done – except it was with the only way Bucky probably knew how in terms of what he knew about Loki. "And you still think I'm the one to pull stupid stunts?"

"It's all of the stupid you took with you," his best friend shot back and for the first time in what seemed to be a very long time since Bucky had arrived at the Avengers Tower weeks ago, Steve laughed.

"I thought it rubbed off on you," he replied before sobering a little, "Loki says that Sleipnir has a geas with Baldr...which means..." He glanced up at the ceiling, even though he knew that JARVIS was technically everywhere. "JARVIS," he called out to Tony's A.I., "wake the others. I think Loki's got a plan of action."

Natasha knew that most would consider what she was doing to be dangerous; maybe even compulsive. After all, Sleipnir in the guise of Baron von Strucker, had said a code word that knocked her out. It was the same with James, but that was precisely the reason why she was doing what she was doing. She needed to be sure that she and James would not be compromised. And since she was less of a risk in terms of combat strength and ability compared to James, it would be easy for her to question Sleipnir. She knew that any other person would constitute it as a sacrifice of sorts on her part, but to her, it was practicality versus wishful thinking. James was still dealing with the after effects of coming to terms with his 'mission' to kill Steve Rogers. He was also not as efficient of a interrogator as she was.

But there was also no one else that could ask the questions that needed to be asked. Coulson and his team were still recovering, and she already knew that the last couple of days with Loki here was running him more ragged than usual. Even though Coulson had said that he had come to terms with Loki being freed to wander around; considering he had been murdered, Natasha knew that deep down Coulson was more than likely still coming to terms. Clint was certainly not an option even though he had insight into Sleipnir's actions as Strucker at the base. She was more than certain that Sleipnir had intel on Clint and she would never subject her partner to that type of reverse interrogation.

Steve's honesty was unsuited for it, and Bruce was out of the question. Maria was a possibility, but Natasha knew that she was trying to help Coulson as well as fend off the press and media about Loki's appearance in Union Square and Thor's attack. She would never ask Stark to try to question Sleipnir – not if they all wanted to live a little longer. She had considered calling Fury, but she also did not want to reveal to Loki that Fury was technically still alive. They still did not know the consequences of the geas that Fury had made with the Trickster God if it went into effect.

So it was up to her to ferret out the secrets of the man that had more than likely overseen the Black Widow program. The last time she had confronted Sleipnir, he had all but laughed in her face about her abilities before knocking her out with a codeword. But it seemed circumstances were perhaps a little different now, especially since the magic suppressing binders had been put onto him. It would also test her hypothesis that it was Strucker's voice that was modulated to produce the desired effect of a trigger word. She had internally theorized it as they had been heading to Paris after escaping London a little over a week ago. It was because she had heard her own trigger word 'Tchaikovsky' from others and had no reaction, but it had been Strucker's voice that had produced the reaction. She did not discount the fact that Sleipnir might have sent some kind of spell towards her and James considering that he was Asgardian and a mage like Loki. But she was pretty certain of her original hypothesis.

"JARVIS, please open the door," she called out to Stark's A.I. as she stood in front of it.

"As you wish. I have also notified Agent Hill of your entry," the computer replied and Natasha only smiled a little as the door slid open. She did not mind that Hill knew; in fact, she hoped that Hill would be an ally in all of this if she was successful in ferreting out what she wanted from Sleipnir. She and Hill were cordial, if business-like with each other for the most part, but Natasha knew that Hill always kept a close eye on her, per their unspoken agreement when she had been brought in from the cold by Barton and even after her Red Room connections discovered.

"Ah, the little spider visits," Sleipnir's chains jangled lightly, his arms still outstretched, though not as much as when Jormungandr had been questioning him earlier. She supposed the ravens had let his arms down a little, but not enough to give him leverage if he wanted to escape. The ravens were smarter than she had initially given them credit.

"I figure you don't normally sleep, and if you do, it's probably a lot on your conscience," she said almost flippantly and saw the corner of his lips twitch up in a mirthless smile. It was very like Loki's smile the first time she had met him, as if Sleipnir was biding his own time, playing her like she was playing him.

He leaned against the wall of the room he was in, directly underneath the observation room instead of sitting by the bolted-on rounded table and chair like he had earlier. Natasha could easily read that he was truly tired, but his icy blue eyes were still sharp and predatory. She expected nothing less from the person who had been part of her and James' creation as the Black Widow and Winter Soldier. The body might be tired, but the mind; the keen mind and eyes, he was watching her carefully.

"Are you here to question me again, little spider?" he asked and while another person would have been unnerved by his usage of nearly the same moniker that Muunin had used on her earlier, she was not disturbed by it. It confirmed for her that he had been listening in, even behind thick walls and glass that normally would not have been able to be detected by anyone else. She flicked a quick look around the room before catching how he had done it.

"It is not magic," she countered, "or rather, magick as you pronounce it, but rather you were watching the reflection of everyone off the walls of the room. You read everyone's lips."

Sleipnir only snorted, but Natasha caught the faint sense of approval from him. "You've been trained well."

"And well enough to know that your trigger words can't affect me, not right now at least," she answered his unspoken question and saw him blink once, the crooked mirthless smile slowly appearing on his lips as he nodded in further approval.

"Vocal modulation with subliminal programming," he said and Natasha pursed her lips.

"Which means, you've also recorded Strucker's voice and it can be played anywhere at any time," she said slowly before shaking her head, "no...no it can't. Because there will always been feedback, but in your case, since you've lived for so long and you can shapeshift into Strucker, you would have always been there, out live James and myself."

"Clever spider," Sleipnir replied before he leaned forward just a little bit, "tell me, anything else you wish to share in this interrogation of yours? I know all of your methods, all of your secrets, Natochka."

The tantalizing drop of her pet name, the name that she knew James used for her when they were together as Yasha and Natalia, dangled in front of her. It invited her to ask about her past, the memories she knew were buried under layers and layers of mind wipes, painful ones that she could barely remember and even for the ones she did, they were hazy and disconnected. She instead, ignored his taunt and studied him. He looked very tired, as was her initial assessment, but as she looked at him, she could clearly see the exhaustion in his almost unassuming posture as he leaned against the wall. No...he was not leaning against the wall, more like using it for support, as if, if he let himself hang on the chains, it would somehow drag him away. Which meant he was afraid to sleep and used the cold concrete to keep himself awake. It looked like he was not even feeling the cuts and burns he had received during Asgard's attack even though all of them were bandaged.

"Can't sleep?" she asked with a pointed look and saw him smile faintly at her as he made to cross his arms before the jangle of and pull of chains stopped him.

"As you had said before, the burdens of my sins overwhelm me," he lied in a clear and deliberate tone.

"Your wrists will probably chafe a bit more," she gestured with her chin to his outstretched arms, noting the raw redness around his wrists and saw him glance at it, a quick frown gracing his features before he twisted his wrists back and forth. The redness looked it was ringed around, almost etching a pattern of sorts into his skin and Natasha supposed it was the magic on the manacles doing it. She would have liked to think it was etching a list of crimes in Norse or something, but supposed it was wishful thinking on her part.

She turned back to study him, noting that his red-hair seemed to be a bit lackluster and matted with sweat that had not been previously there. His icy blue eyes were still sharp, but they seemed sunken with exhaustion and overall, there was a sense of defeat in his posture that was definitely not there earlier when he had unexpectedly arrived by Bifrost. She could easily imagine a time when he would have been devastatingly handsome with his aristocratically good looks. And with his words and deflection, she had no doubts that he was more than likely a wordsmith like Loki. She did not know much of Sleipnir in the Norse myths except for the fact that he was an eight-legged horse and Odin's mount. That at least gave her something to work with, she supposed. Any person riding an animal trusted the animal implicitly to not throw them off – so by extension, if Sleipnir had Odin's trust, it meant that he was close to Odin and knew a lot of secrets and things. And considering what they knew about the royal family and anyone associated with them, there were expectations – high ones. There were also prejudices and behaviors one must follow if one was associated with the royal family; the clear delineation between the two evident in Sif who was considered Thor's companion and friend and Jormungandr, who was Loki's.

"You know my methods," she repeated and saw him arch an eyebrow. "Then please, tell me what you think I should analyze and ferret out?"

"You would allow me to taunt you as I have, to reveal a story before I would compare it against my own. You would be either sympathetic or in this case, unsympathetic in order to get a rise out of me and I would deflect. I would also not deflect and in either case you would get your answer within the deflection and non-deflection of your questioning," Sleipnir replied, "your methods are interchangeable, adaptable, able to be used on whim or hidden away. I know because I taught you all of it...even showed it to you..."

Natasha barely reacted to the leer that he suddenly gave her, raking her up and down with his eyes. She knew it was a ploy and though a part of her doubted it was true, another part of her did not discount the fact that perhaps it was he who had taught her the finer arts. Yasha, James, had taught her a lot of it during their brief time together, but who was to say that Sleipnir did not have a hand in it, shapeshifting into another person's form. She had no doubts that he was not above perhaps mimicking Yasha, but she also knew from what she had studied that he would not have kept his form for long. No, Sleipnir loved to manipulate things from a certain distance, occasionally getting his hands dirty, but nonetheless stay mostly out of it.

"I get it," she smiled and sat back, crossing her arms across her chest, "you're exactly like him."

"A mysterious, 'him'," Sleipnir lifted his fingers and made air quotes, "how utterly useless-"

"Not Baldr," she interrupted him, "definitely not him. But like Loki. And I mean, not the Crown Prince, but Loki running around here."

Sleipnir blinked once and shook his head mirthlessly, "Do tell. It is a fascinating analysis you have come up with."

Natasha pursed her lips and unfolded her arms, sitting forward as she clasped her hands together in front of her, "I've been listening to the tapes of you, even your questioning as Strucker. Do you know what I hear? I hear regret. I hear sorrow."

"My heart bleeds," Sleipnir shot back, absently swaying with his chain before he leaned against the concrete wall once more.

"You don't like doing this," Natasha stared at him, "no actually, you don't care about doing this, but you do care on some level about what's happened."

"The fall of Asgard is a very big thing to care about," he replied shortly.

"Yeah, it is," Natasha replied, "but here's the thing. I only hear sorrow because you knew what was going to happen."

He arched another eyebrow at her, a clear sarcastic sense that she had done a brilliant job at ferreting out what was not already there. "In the sense that you knew you would have to kill Queen Frigga. And I hear sorrow because you didn't want to do that, even though you knew it was coming."

"Frigga was in the way," Sleipnir replied shortly, his icy blue eyes chipped with anger.

"But Odin and the others spared?" she asked with a tilt of her head, "she could have been kept alive, but you deliberately killed her."

"If you are looking for a confession, yes, I killed her with my own hands. The ravens can confirm it for you as they were the ones who happen upon me over her body after I had stabbed her. I can tell you that she fought, she fought a glorious battle and she would be resting in Valhalla by now if Hel did her job and sent a Valkyrie to collect her. But Hel detests Frigga, so I have no idea if she had done as requested."

"Like I said, exactly like Loki," she smiled at him and he frowned, puzzled.

"I am nothing like that whelp of a Jotun-"

"You just want it to end," she interrupted him again and this time, it got a reaction out of him. He pulled against his chains, glaring at her with a furious look as he bared his teeth in anger.

"I-"

"You're sick of this, sick of everything and I'm thinking that you hoped that the battle would have put you out of your misery, because if you're that close to the royal family, you know that what you just did was anathema. That you killed a member of the royal family and you regret it."

"...Two...two members," he hissed quietly.

"Two," she amended, wondering who the second one was, before giving him a smile full of teeth, "but sorry, we're not going to kill you because you want us to-"

Sleipnir suddenly burst out laughing, an almost hysterically insane quality to it before Natasha turned in her chair to see Loki standing by the door, Gungnir in his hand. The Asgardian's expression was tight with anger, but his eyes blazing with fury. "I think, Agent Romanov," Sleipnir said in between laughs, "that the decision is not entirely up to you."

Author's Notes:

I've been dealing with a few real life situations as of late so chapters will be sporadically updated. Many apologies, but happy holidays!