Note:Onceagain,letmeapologizefornotbeingsogreatattheplottyelements.WhenIwriteoriginalfictionItrytoplanahead,butwithfanficIhaveatendencytogo,"okay,we'lldothisandseewhereitleads."WhichoftenmeansIdon'tknowmyselfexactlywhat'sgoingtohappennextuntilitdoes.Andthere'snothingworsethantryingtofixlogicalproblemsinastorythatdoesn'tmakemuchsenseanyway!
Again, thank you for the reads/reviews/alerts/favourites. I hope whoever is out there is having at least as much fun as I am!
Chapter Twelve
With Steve back to himself, the next question was how to bring their adversary into the open. As they walked out of the forest, Loki was considering the problem. He had placed protective wards upon Excalibur before they left the clearing. Despite his joking with Stark, he did not bother trying to be funny with the spell, though Stark's suggestion that anyone who attempted to steal the sword be attacked by something called the Bluebird of Happiness certainly sounded worth keeping in mind for another time.
He did not attempt to cloak the weapon with magic. The point was to bring Mordred to face him. And "face him" were indeed the operative words: obviously the Avengers were determined to fight the malignant sorcerer, but Loki was not at all confident there was much they could do. It was true that Iron Man had originally captured Loki by disabling him with a burst of electromagnetic energy, but that had worked because Loki was alive. Mordred had died some fifteen hundred years before, and Loki was extremely interested in finding out how he had returned, and in what form. It was not unheard-of in Asgard, for warriors especially to come back from death, but Loki had never known of a case personally.
ExceptforThor,he reminded himself. Thor had returned from death after Loki made the Destroyer kill him. He knew this to be true, although he now remembered very little about the circumstances, his cowardly mind apparently trying to protect him from specific knowledge of his own treachery. However, to the best of his recollection, Thor had only been dead for a few seconds when the fact of his self-sacrifice recalled Mjolnir, and also restored Thor's hovering soul to his body.
There was a considerable difference between that case and whatever was happening here. By now, little would remain of Mordred's physical self, so unless he had commandeered a body from somewhere-
Loki stopped walking, so suddenly that George piled into him from behind. Loki hardly noticed himself stagger.
"Damn. Damn, damn, damn," he muttered, mind scrambling. How could he have been so stupid as to miss this?
"What's the matter?" Fury asked, the edge in his voice the only evidence he realized Loki's tone meant something was very wrong.
"Mordred," Loki replied. "I have been assuming his powers are much like mine, that he carries magic within that must replenish itself after use."
"And now you think you're wrong?" Fury prompted.
Loki made a frustrated gesture. "I must be wrong. Mordred has been dead for fifteen hundred years. By now, his body is dust. That means he must himself be composed entirely of magical energy. If he cannot command the power in the realm, he either has a separate source of magic, or someone else is controlling him."
"Oh, great," Coulson said flatly. "So what you're saying is, there may be two sorcerers out there."
Loki scrubbed his hands through his hair, trying desperately to think. "The Lady said he was the son and nephew of sorcerers. I should have questioned her about that- "
"Sure," George said. "He's the son of Morgause, who was the sister of Morgana, or Morgan, Le Fay."
"Were either of them evil?" Fury cut to the heart of the matter.
"If you believe TH White, yes. Morgause, anyway. If you believe TheMistsOfAvalon, they were feminist heroes. Heroines. If you take a line somewhere in the middle, it's probably fair to say they were as interested as anyone else of the time in possessing and wielding power for their own ends."
"And what became of them?" Loki asked.
"Morgause, Mordred's mother, was supposed to have been killed by one of her sons- either Gaheris or Agravaine, depending on the source." George paused. "You know, I don't know what happened to Morgan Le Fay. I mean, she was one of the enchantresses who carried Arthur to Avalon after the Battle of Camlann, but that's where the story I know ends."
"So she may have simply retreated, as magic became less prominent on this realm," Loki said, thinking out loud. "Where would she have gone?"
George frowned. "I suppose she'd still be on Avalon. That's where she came from, and it's the island of the dead- " George fell silent when he realized how Loki was looking at him.
"Avalon?" Loki demanded. "Once again, we return to Avalon? Does it strike anyone else that perhaps that is where we should focus our researches?"
~oOoOo~
The rain had let up, but there was a late-afternoon mist hanging around the foot of Glastonbury Tor as the group trudged toward it. They could have had the helicarrier loom over the tor, but even Fury thought that would be inappropriate, to say nothing of George's fear the thunder of the vessel's engines would actually harm the ruin on the crest of the hill.
Nobody minded, though the path was steep. Walking was traditional on a quest. Loki had to admit, however, that it felt very peculiar not to be among the followers. As the bearer of Excalibur, to say nothing of the only member of the group who would recognize a magical portal if it popped open at their feet, Loki was elected leader the group. George, their scholar, stayed close to Loki on his left. Thor and Steve followed directly behind, Steve a little to George's left and Thor a little to Loki's right, as protection in case they were needed. The others strung along behind, with Stark bringing up the rear.
Walking up the tor gave them an excellent view of the terraces that scored the side of the hill. George breathlessly explained that these were believed to have some connection with agriculture or defense, but might also have formed part of a labyrinth with some sort of religious significance. Loki had seen labyrinths before- and had occasionally found amusement in rearranging the path behind himself as he escaped from one- but the scale of this task confounded him. Even with magic it would be a remarkable accomplishment. The idea that it might have been entirely the work of stubborn primitives was nothing short of astonishing.
"I hate to sound like a kid on a car trip, but- are we there yet?" Stark almost whined from the rear.
"What's the matter, Stark? Can't cope without your suit?" Steve teased. It had the sound of a long-running squabble between comrades, of the sort Loki was once accustomed to listen to between Thor and his friends on their expeditions as he trudged along with them.
"Loki, Steve's picking on me," Stark unexpectedly complained.
"Do not make me go back there, you two," Loki warned, because on the spur of the moment he could not think of a better riposte. The entire Midgardian contingent, except of course for Coulson and Fury, immediately began giggling as though he had said something extremely amusing.
And then they were at the summit of the tor, with the majestic ruined tower standing before them. Loki could feel everyone coming to a halt behind him, and he was not sure whether it was because they were in the presence of magic, or history, or a combination of the two.
"When was that thing built?" Fury asked quietly.
"Thirteen-twenties, I think," George supplied the answer. "It's smaller than the original, which was destroyed by an earthquake. This one was in active use until the monasteries were dissolved in the time of Henry VIII. The church itself was taken apart for the stone, so the tower is all that's left."
Loki looked back to see Fury shaking his head in amazement. "You English bastards really build things to last," he remarked, almost to himself.
George glanced at Loki. "Did I mention to you that there's supposed to be an entrance to Avalon itself, somewhere on the tor? To the land of the faeries?"
"I thought you said fairies didn't exist?" Stark objected.
"I said I'd never met one, and I that didn't know whether they really existed," George corrected him. "And then Loki met the Lady of the Lake, and she gave him Excalibur. At this point I think it's fair to say I'll believe just about anything."
"Says the werewolf," Stark murmured.
"Exactly," George replied with a grin.
"Have you any idea where such an entrance might be situated?" Loki asked. George shrugged.
"Probably not near the church, unless faeries have a better sense of humour than I think they do. And even if we did find it, we probably shouldn't try to actually enter, because time passes so differently among the faeries. We'd be apt to emerge a hundred years from now. Or a hundred years ago."
"Really," Mitchell said wistfully, a comment mostly lost in the general shuffle of everyone spreading out as though to search the hilltop. Loki touched Mitchell's arm in passing, but the vampire did not appear to notice: he was staring down the hill, eyes wide. Loki turned to see what he was looking at.
The sun had not quite set, but was hanging low in the sky, and shadows were long at the foot of the tor. It was therefore easy to see the light gliding toward them, following the curving lines of the terrace.
Apparently, it was not necessary that they seek Morgan Le Fay after all.
Loki would later consider it interesting that the Avengers, who were after all warriors, reacted to a man as though they perceived no threat. Considering they had come to learn whether Morgan Le Fay was the one who set Mordred upon them, this was curious.
Loki only thought of it later, because he, too, felt no peril as the light approached. He was instead very curious about the fact the Fay, for he assumed it was she, approached them, and permitted the entire group to see her.
The light paused at a slight distance from the group, hovered, and then resolved into the form of a tall, broad, very beautiful woman with silvery hair. Loki was struck with a feeling of familiarity as he looked at her, but it took him a moment to realize: this was much as Sif would probably look, when age and experience were reflected on her face. He nearly glanced at Thor to see whether his brother saw it, too, but he was unable to look away long enough to do so.
The woman walked forward and Loki inclined his head respectfully, hands folded before him. The woman halted a few paces from him and smiled.
"I believe I am the one you seek," she said, in a tone of warmly amused assurance. Everything about her demeanour was so at odds with the wicked enchantress Loki had almost expected that he probably should have been confused or suspicious. No emotions could have been further from his mind. "I am known as Morgan Le Fay."
"My lady," Loki murmured. Manners dictated he explain himself, though it hardly appeared to be necessary.
Before he could do so, Morgan Le Fay spoke.
"You are Loki, son of Laufey and of Odin. You are an enchanter, and you would find the sorcerer who tormented your friend and once again seeks to rule this realm." Loki bowed his head in assent. Morgan waited, and Loki spoke.
"We believe the one we seek is Mordred, though Mordred has been dead these many centuries and his body returned to the dust. That being so, we wish to know- "
"Yes," Morgan said, her voice very tired. "You wish to know whether I assisted Mordred in his return. I did." She almost smiled. "And now I suppose you wish to know why? You would perhaps like to know whether it was… my little joke upon the realm?"
Justabitoffun. Loki clenched his hands, but kept his face impassive. "Was it?"
Morgan shook her head thoughtfully. "Mordred has been… much wronged. His mother was my sister, and very dear to me, but she was far from wise, or good. And his father's answer to the prophecies surrounding his son was what might be expected of a king of his time, but did not befit a hero." Loki, remembering his dream of drowning, remained silent. "It is not so hard to understand, how he grew up with a sense of grievance against the entire world, except perhaps for the mother who instilled it."
"The loves and hatreds of his frightful home," Loki murmured, remembering TheCandleIntheWind. Morgan smiled at him, wearily.
"Yes. He was ever a mixture of love and hatred, and always choosing the wrong way about. I thought, after all this time, there was little he could do except to see what has become of the realm, see how it has gotten along since his father's time. It is not a place that welcomes magic, but it has its charms. I thought, perhaps, he could see… Arthur's day is past. The Once and Future King will not return. Nor will the Old Ones who fought against him, nor will his Knights of the Round Table. All of them, everything Mordred fought against, and wished to be part of, and hated, and loved, and tried to destroy… all of them are gone. And yet the realm endures, and the people are really… not so different from what they were. I thought perhaps, if he could go back and see this, it would… calm him."
"And it did not," Loki said.
"No."
"I wonder if perhaps Mordred might be a little mad," Loki suggested conversationally. "Madness sometimes takes the form of trying to force one's will upon situations and beings, however irrationally."
"You speak as one who knows," said Morgan. It was not a question. Loki inclined his head in agreement. "Yes. It is unsurprising, and much to be regretted, but… yes. There is madness within him."
"Why now?" The question was born of more than idle curiosity. If Mordred had a particular reason for wishing to return at this time, or if Morgan had one for permitting it to happen now, it might be useful to know.
"Why now?" Morgan smiled. "Because Mordred felt the presence in the realm of a sorcerer he thought might be able to help him. As did I, though I confess I did not view 'help' in exactly the same way as did my nephew."
Loki kept his face perfectly blank. "Indeed? And where should we seek this sorcerer?"
Morgan looked amused. "Do not parry words with me. Mordred will find you, and I fear he has already realized that you have no wish to assist him in his plans- if a series of half-sane fantasies can rightly be called 'plans.'" Loki winced and knew Morgan saw it. She offered no comment, merely went on gently, "He will be very angry. He will be angrier when he realizes no further help is forthcoming from me. Do not underestimate the power he has accumulated, but I would be grateful if he did not come to any more harm than that which he will visit upon himself."
Her apparent faith in Loki's abilities did not inspire as much confidence as he would have liked, but there was no time to argue before Morgan disappeared.
Well, he would have to see the looks on everyone else's faces eventually. It was as well to get it over with as quickly as possible. Loki turned to face the rest of the group.
"Something you're not telling us, Loki?" Stark asked with a smirk. Loki was almost sure Stark was merely teasing him, but it was not pleasant to be the target of such banter under the eye of Nick Fury. Also, Loki did not quite resist the urge to flick a nervous glance at Thor. His brother did not meet his eyes, but addressed Stark sharply:
"If you are attempting to insinuate that Loki is allied with Mordred- "
"- I don't need to, big guy, because you're doing it for me," Stark practically sang. Loki wondered whether the Iron Man truly had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. Annie was suddenly between Stark and Thor, who glanced down at her and began to look ashamed of his temper.
"Really, Stark, there's a time and a place," Steve said wearily. Stark glanced at the others and, as they began walking down the path again, changed the subject.
"Does it strike anyone else that Ms Le Fay was a little… cavalier… about the fate of the world? Just letting Mordred loose like that?"
"I don't know," Steve objected, which made Loki wonder whether the natural state of these two was to bicker. Steve's next words at least reassured him that Captain America was not arguing merely to hear his own voice: "It's not like he's done much of anything just yet. I mean, yeah, he attacked us when we interrupted him trying to rally the realm, and he put that curse on me, but… he might have just felt threatened, or something, when we showed up. It's not like he's done anything to us since."
Loki applauded Steve's fair-mindedness, truly he did. It was a fine quality for a hero to have.
Not being a hero himself, it was not one he shared.
"That is certainly possible," Loki said, trying not to sound patronizing. "However, the realm definitely feels a sense of threat and anger. And there was little reason for Mordred to pay much attention to us before we found Excalibur. However- last night, both Mitchell and I experienced extremely unpleasant dreams. This may have been a coincidence, but I wonder, were we alone in that?" Glancing around, Loki noted that even Coulson was nodding. "Very well. It is possible those dreams represented Mordred's first effort to learn of our vulnerabilities. Regarding Morgan Le Fay… I, too, would not necessarily call her actions 'cavalier.' She seems to have given him the ability to revisit England in the hope he would then return to the land of the dead in peace. It is possible that she felt herself partly at fault for Mordred's fate. And perhaps she believed, or merely hoped that, given a second chance, he would not waste it."
Stark was eyeing him closely. "And everyone deserves a second chance?"
"No," Loki replied evenly. "But some of us receive one anyway." Morethanone, he reflected, although he did not have the time right now to sit down and tally up his own.
"And not all of us waste it," Mitchell observed.
"Not all of them, at any rate," Loki murmured.
~oOoOo~
It was quite dark by the time everyone was back on the helicarrier. Since Mordred had seemed to be active mostly at night, and since there was no doubt in Loki's mind that he would be able to track Excalibur, he found himself tense until they were all back on board and around the conference table in the observation deck.
As it turned out, he relaxed a moment too soon.
"Okay," Fury began, "assuming Mordred does show up- "
That was as far as he got before Mitchell went over the table at him.
Loki was sitting next to Mitchell, and had been half-aware of the vampire fidgeting in his chair. He even caught a whiff of rotting vegetation just before his friend leaped, but it all happened so quickly he was taken by surprise.
Very fortunately, Loki was extremely quick even under such unexpected circumstances: he managed to grab Mitchell by the belt and yank him down onto the surface of the table. As Mitchell inexplicably struggled, Loki vaulted out of his seat onto the table and pinned him.
"Mitchell, what in the Nine Realms- ?" Loki demanded breathlessly, but the words died on his lips when Mitchell twisted underneath him and Loki saw blackened eyes and snarling fangs rising toward his face. The two crashed off the table onto the floor in a tangle of chairs, Mitchell on top. Loki's concern for his friend was at least matched by his adrenaline-fueled awareness of the fangs at his jugular. Loki got a hand on Mitchell's throat, and held him at his long arm's length with all his strength as Mitchell clawed at him, hissing incomprehensibly.
Not quite incomprehensibly: for a second the black of his eyes receded back to wide-eyed, terrified brown. Mitchell looked up at the others and pleaded, "Stopme!" before his whole body jerked and his eyes went black again. As Annie screamed his name and grabbed him by the shoulder, Mitchell turned on her with a snarl.
Logically, Loki knew there was absolutely nothing Mitchell could do to harm a ghost. Logically, he knew that was why Annie was trying to draw Mitchell's attention in the first place. Logic had nothing to do with anything as he braced himself and yanked Mitchell away from her, then twisted sideways in an effort to protect his throat. Tears streaming down his face, Mitchell lunged.
And he was gone. Loki rolled onto his hands and knees and looked up to see Steve and Thor dragging Mitchell across the room, Mitchell struggling and hissing, looking simultaneously murderous and terrified. Thor extended a hand for Mjolnir, which flew to him. He then very carefully used the hammer to pin Mitchell to the floor, where he writhed helplessly, like a half-crushed insect. His eyes kept going from predatory black, back to their normal brown, back to predatory. It was abundantly clear that whatever was happening to him was not under his control.
Loki knew exactly how it felt to be trapped under the weight of the great hammer, and even had he not loved Mitchell he would have felt very sorry for him. He fell to his knees next to his friend, Annie beside him, and on the other side George grabbed Mitchell's hand.
"Mitchell, calm down," Annie pleaded. Mitchell snarled at her, looked bewildered, snarled again.
"What in the hell- ?" Fury demanded. Loki gestured and he fell silent. Even in the middle of the situation, George gave him a wide-eyed look and asked, "Did you- ?"
"Yes," Loki replied shortly. He would deal with the repercussions of hexing Fury later. With any luck, Mordred would not kill him before Fury had the chance. Now, he placed his hands on Mitchell's head and held it, forcing Mitchell to look into his eyes. "Mitchell. Listen to me. This is not real. Mitchell." Mitchell's eyes focused momentarily on Loki's face, flickered again, and then stayed brown. Loki managed a smile. "It's all right."
"I lost control... I'm always so afraid that I'll... that I'll lose control," Mitchell whispered.
"I know," Loki assured him. "Mordred's weapon is fear. This is not you."
"Are you- " Stark hesitated, looked at the silently apoplectic Fury, decided to risk it, and went on, "Are you saying Mordred did this to him?"
"Almost certainly," Loki said grimly. George patted Mitchell's hand helplessly. Loki looked up. "Is there anywhere on this vessel where Mitchell can be secure?" Fury raised his eyebrows. "Oh, excuse me," Loki murmured, and snapped his fingers. Even with the spell removed Fury was apparently still incapable of speech, so Coulson replied imperturbably,
"If you mean a cell, there are several."
Loki looked down at Mitchell. "Is this acceptable to you? You can be secured, so that you will not come to harm, or be able to inadvertently harm anyone else."
"Yes," Mitchell whispered, and it was impossible to tell whether he was so breathless as a result of the weight on his chest, or panic.
"Very well," Loki said soothingly. "Thor and Steve will transport you. This may be the end of it, but even if you have another... episode... you need not worry about harming anyone else." Mitchell nodded, and Loki turned to Annie. "Would you remain with him?'
Annie nodded. "Sure," she said, covering Mitchell's other hand with her own.
"Good," Loki said, smiled reassuringly at Mitchell again, and rose to his feet. "George, will you please stay with Mitchell and Annie? Not, of course, within the same cell, but if there is some way you can be near enough to have access to them- ?"
"Done," Coulson replied. "Come with me," he addressed Thor and Steve. Thor gingerly removed Mjolnir and he and Steve each took a firm grip on one of Mitchell's arms and helped him to his feet. Mitchell remained shaken and compliant, perfectly willing for the two Avengers to hold onto him in case he did anything frightening again. Coulson gestured to the group to follow him and left the room.
Fury glanced at Stark, who had respectfully opted to remain in civilian clothes rather than wear his iron suit into the midst of the magic field. "You get suited up, I'll go sound the alarm and speak to the captain. Loki, take a look around and see if he's still here."
Loki, conscious of being addressed as if he was simply part of the team, nodded. As they left the room Fury and Stark turned left up the corridor, so Loki went to the right.
Walked down the corridor and around a corner.
Encountered one of SHIELD's uniformed guards, holding a pulse rifle at the ready and looking distressed.
Loki opened his mouth to speak, then realized that, since the alarm had not been sounded, there was no reason for the guard to know about the enemy aboard unless-
A figure in a green cloak materialized behind the guard as the man fired a bolt of energy directly into Loki's chest. The world went sparkling-bright, and then black.