They entered a moment in which time seemed to lull. Loki was torn with so many questions to ask but his tongue would not obey, and so he remained in silent scrutiny as Harry slid off his horse, leaning heavily against the animal. He was going to be very different, Loki suspected; Harry didn't look so guilt-ravaged and torn between raging emotions as he. But to Loki, that didn't matter. What did matter, however, was that crown he wore, and Loki hated himself for thinking it. To him, it seemed like a taunt, a pathetic jab at his already-skewered idea of the monarchy and how it felt to rule – to have complete power. He knew was walking a dangerously thin line, caught between wanting to make things… not necessarily make them better, but make things work again, or slipping back into that power-hungry mindset he had so long forced on himself.
Loki could see that Harry's mind was brimming with questions and silent self-conflicts, much like his own. Already, he was able to pin down a few similarities, asides from the physical likeness. From Harry's surprisingly calm response, Loki deduced he was a strategizer like himself, able to think ahead and plan his moves accordingly. From his cold, hard stare, Loki was sure that Harry was almost trying to reach into his mind and dig up some information that would allow him to conjure up a dangerous set of lightning-fast responses, a usefully intimidating tactic that he himself often employed. Of course, when used on two equals, it had no such effect. Loki then concluded that Harry was currently running through a very similar process in his mind, and found himself smirking at the man again.
It took that moment for Harry to think of something to say.
"Curious indeed." A smile slowly worked its way onto Harry's features, his eyes growing soft and breaking the tension that had built up so suddenly. A small laugh escaped him, and he turned to the rest of the group.
"Thomas, you've outdone yourself!" Harry shook his head, his laugh growing louder in surprise, "How are we meant to… What?" the words left his mouth in a final breathless laugh of uncertainty, as though he'd been suddenly ambushed by a man too quick for his eyes and ears.
"There is magic at play here, how- Do you see my problem?" Harry turned back to Thomas once again, vague hand gestures summing up Harry's sheer confusion as he began to walk amongst the Avengers, casting a scrutinizing eye over each in turn as he rubbed a hand over the light stubble on his chin in thought.
"Well, you like your riddles, Harry. Seeing as that's all you speak for the most part." Thomas scoffed, getting down off his horse also, setting his shield down and removing his gauntlets.
"I'm still King, I can have your tongue cut out if I so wished-"
"But you would not, Harry. Your truce with France forbids it." Thomas chuckled as he walked over to Harry's side, disregarding the matter as if it was a petty disagreement as opposed to the potentially devastating threat of a broken treaty with France and her armies.
"Very well countered, Thomas." Harry admitted, turning his gaze back to the hapless travellers.
In the midst of this banter, Loki felt compelled to turn his attention to the man who rode the black horse. He had dismounted and handed the horses to a waiting stableboy in the meantime. Loki cast a calculating gaze over the man as he had done with Harry. He was thickly built, his face obscured with blood and mud like Harry's was, but it bore an unmistakable similarity to Thor's facial structure. Loki also noted that he looked positively barbaric, like one of those Berserkers he'd often seen in battles. The vicious blue of this man's eyes were even more unsettling than Harry's had been, but something about them held Loki's attention for a moment.
"They seem far too friendly to be me and Loki." Steve muttered in hushed tones to the nearest person, who happened to be Clint. The archer shrugged, making a noncommittal noise in response.
"Harry's not bad. If you know what I mean, y'know, for the 1410s or whatever century we're in." Tony commented absent-mindedly to the group, who all turned to look at him with expressions caught somewhere between horror and confusion.
"What? Guy can't appreciate a decent body anymo-" Tony held up his hands in defence as the group began to voice their own opinions, mostly opposing Tony's own. Thor simply looked affronted. Loki continued to ignore them.
"Not if it's Loki. I mean, that's like you gushing about Thor or Steve or-" Clint interjected.
"You?" Tony raised an eyebrow, smirking at the flustered archer.
"You get my point!" Clint huffed finally, in a voice that sounded like it was caught between laughing and making a noise of disgust.
Tony was about to reply, when another loud laugh from Harry pulled the group's attention again. So far, Harry laughed a hell of a lot more than Loki did, that was a given, Tony thought to himself as he followed the actions of the group, turning to look at the King again.
The Berserker had strolled over to Harry; a cautious eye lay upon Thor as he murmured something discreet to the evidently amused King. Harry looked back to Loki for a moment, and then to Thor, before going back to the Berserker who faced the group once again. Loki noted that standing abreast, there was little difference between Harry and the Berserker in terms of height and he would be willing to take a guess that a fight between these two would be an even match in strength.
Loki made his way back to Thor, seeing as he was standing away on his own for no particular reason. It had become something of a habit to remain closer to Thor in these past few months, after almost losing him to Jotunheim in one of the first random bouts of time and reality travelling. There was no doubt that it had shaken him, and it was not a fact he chose to hide either.
The sudden silence from Erik and Harry was a little disconcerting, however. The loudness of Loki's thoughts had delayed his recognition of the silent reality, and so the realisation was a harsh break in what was a contenting drone of thought. Suddenly, the Berserker opened his mouth to speak, slowly and steadily, a clear Scandinavian accent creeping up on his vowels.
"It is seldom seen that Gods walk amongst men."
There was a pause as Thor seemed to tense up and drop his guard into place, thinking of a response. When none came to mind, he simply gave a curt nod in confirmation. Gods did indeed seldom walk amongst men.
Loki had to admit he was pleased with his brother's otherwise passive response to his own doppelganger. Odin knows what Hel would have been unleashed if Thor had taken it the wrong way and resorted to bashing his problems out with Mjolnir as he usually did.
"You must be Thunor- Thor? Erik speaks of you often! How ironic, seeing as you look so alike. Perhaps that's why. He does love himself-" Harry jumped in, speaking a little too fast to be convincing. Loki assumed he was just trying to diffuse the situation.
"I pray you go no further with that sentence, lest you be subject to the traps of irony. You might deny it, but your pride is insufferable at times." Erik cut Harry off with a wolfish grin, all traces of hostility receding, if you ignored the one hand on the hilt of his sword and another clutched around the handle of a bloodied axe. At his full height, he stood almost as tall as Thor, and was of a similar build. A formidable sight indeed, but that was common for most Berserkers.
"I hold my tongue, Erik." Harry gave in, slinking off towards the lowered gates of the castle and beckoning for the group to follow. The King pulled off his worn leather gloves and tucked them into his belt, passing his shield to a waiting armoury servant, who also took Thomas and Erik's unneeded weapons.
"Who does he think he is, ordering us all-" Tony began to comment, cutting himself off midway through his sentence as the rest of the group turned to shoot him with incredulous looks.
"Right. King." The inventor nodded as he voiced his realization aloud. He slowly pulled himself up off the rock and began to follow the group slowly; scuffing his feet every so often like a petulant child would do out of boredom.
"I have to say, you all seem to be a little unfazed about there being a set of, er, doppelgangers running amok." Loki said, ignoring Tony and falling into step besides Harry as he led them into the castle courtyard.
"Sorcery is rife in these difficult times; I've learnt to accept whatever magic may bring, and your unusual predicament does fall under the realm of magic." Harry explained simply, slowing down with an uncomfortable look etched onto his face, as though he was holding back a sentence after a second thought. Loki did not press him further, all they needed was a route to Asgard, which would exist in any reality, and it was just a case of getting there. A bifrost site was needed. To all of them, England was a foreign land, even more so in the 15th century. Finding what they needed was not going to be particularly straight-forward here.
"As much as you'd like to disappear with your new best friend, Harry, there are matters to attend to first. Why do you and Erik look like you've just come straight from a battle?" Thomas interrupted as he caught up to the leading party, no longer rattling around like a tin man as some of his armour had been removed.
"You don't speak to him like a King, why?" Loki blurted out, a little confused. Through all his distorted pictures of the monarchy, it had never escaped him that he was expected to treat them with a heightened respect.
"Because I detest it." Harry replied, with a tight, uncomfortable smile. Loki let out a short breath, raising one eyebrow in a questioning gesture that soon faltered. It did not matter, and if he was honest, it would certainly make communication a little easier.
"And Thomas, we look like that because that's exactly what happened." the King paused mid-stride, unable to shake a niggling feeling of discomfort from his side. He gingerly prodded beneath his ribs, and found that they were most likely bruised from the blunt ends of blades reaching their target.
"What, two of you, alone?" Thomas snorted incredulously, re-adjusting his cloak.
"Ah, you know me and Erik, fighting crime-"
"No, Hal. This is serious."
"If anything gets any more serious I think I might do a very accurate impression of my father as of last week."
"Please don't." Thomas gave in with a groan, and left Harry smirking victoriously. After a moment, Harry looked to Thomas again, the smirk gone. Instead, his expression was that of an honest man, speaking of that which he did not wish to speak of.
"There was an ambush. The rebels are still in force, it seems." the King seemed to slouch, as though a heavy burden suddenly sat upon his shoulders. "How many, I know not. More than a few, less than an army. I suspect there's more than just one rebel camp that lies here, but while they gather forces I cannot just sit there and do nothing, Thomas-"
"But you cannot send out an army of your own. Speaking as an advisor, it would be a dangerous move on your part. You leave England open to them by only blocking one channel in a few, so to speak." Erik immediately cut in, watching Harry as he looked from Thomas to the castle, as if summing up which was more important.
"And speaking as a warrior?"
"You cannot think as a warrior, Harry."
"A week, Erik. A week with this crown and already, I-" Harry picked the crown off his head, hands tightening around it, turning his knuckles a ghostly white. He shook it once, as if begging it for an answer. Receiving only silence, he turned back to Erik.
Erik moved forwards and Harry stepped backwards in response, holding the crown protectively to his chest as a child would hold onto a toy.
"At least try to sort this out. I will speak to Avalon." Erik gestured to the Avengers behind him, and then strode into the castle and out of sight.
oOOOo
"So you have no way of returning, unless you get back to A-.." Harry sat back in his throne, trailing off as his mind drew a blank on Thor and Loki's homeland.
"Asgard." Thor filled in for Harry with a friendly grin, returning to feasting on the wild boar set out on a long, ornate table set off to the right-side of the great hall they now resided in. They being Harry and the new arrivals – Thomas had left for training with his swordsmen and Erik had yet to return from his pursuit of the mysterious Avalon.
"Can I ask a question?" Clint piped up from one side of the room, sounding like a curious kid in school as he did so. Harry nodded, meeting his gaze and leaning forward with interest.
"This is gonna sound weird, but why Henry the fifth and not, I don't know, King Harry?"
"Father's name," Harry shrugged, leaning back and looking up in thought, his brow furrowing, "I do not know how to explain it."
"It just shows the line of succession." Loki offered, gently picking at an apple, hidden behind Thor's hulking frame.
"Is it the same for you on As- Asgard?" Harry asked, pressing further. His inquisitive nature was becoming clear to everyone, and the Avengers had braced themselves for a barrage of questions since setting foot in this hall.
"Yes, but we do it differently and it applies to everyone, not just the monarchy. If you have a son, then the son takes your name as his surname, with 'son' added onto the end. Me and Loki are Odinson, sons of Odin." Thor paused to make sure Harry was following, but he didn't miss Loki's sudden change in demeanour as he turned away and took an interest in another piece of fruit on the table. Harry nodded and gestured for Thor to continue.
"For a daughter, it would be 'dottir'. Does that make sense for you?" Thor finished, taking another bite out of the wild boar leg he had on his plate.
"That sounds much more efficient." Harry chuckled, nodding. "I have another question. You might find it a bit close to home, but for brothers-"
"We look nothing alike?" Loki finished for Harry, a tight smile on his face. Harry nodded, sitting upright in the throne as his back started to ache from his slouching.
"Adopted." Loki answered shortly, his tone implying he wanted to say no more.
"At least you act like brothers. Mine don't." Harry sensed the unease that currently radiated from Loki, and made an attempt to lighten the situation.
"You have brothers?" Loki glanced over his shoulder at the King, who nodded, standing up.
"Three. And they're all idiots. But what can you do?" he spoke quietly, the small upwards quirk of his lips implying he found the subject of brothers amusing.
"I had three brothers also." Loki moved away from the table and towards a vacant seat by the roaring fireplace that lay in a pit in the centre of the room, observing the intricate designs etched into the stone walls of the hall. Thor seemed to visibly deflate, setting his plate down and looking over at Loki with a hardened glare. He felt several pairs of eyes boring into him, but did not return their stares.
"Did he just say 'had' or am I hearing things?" Tony muttered quietly to Natasha, who cast Thor a worried glance. Steve and Bruce seemed to turn their attention away from their plates full of food and to the conversation that bounced back and forth between Loki and Harry.
"Had?" Harry leaned against the throne, arms folded and one questioning eyebrow raised.
"Both slain." Thor said quietly, feeling that Loki was not overly happy about this path of conversation, and so he tried to turn it to an abrupt dead-end.
Harry nodded once in a show of understanding, although he felt uneasy now. That statement had stirred something in his mind. The love he had for his brothers was a strange one. Some would argue that it was not love at all, but something completely different. Nevertheless, to lose one of them would grieve him, let alone two.
The faintest footstep reached Harry's ears, pulling him from his thoughts. Stepping down from the little raised platform his throne stood on, he cast a wary glance down the hall, feeling something was not quite right. His leather boots made little noise on the stone floor as he swept to the side of the room, simply becoming a shadow.
The solid oak doors creaked open and light from the windows in the hall outside flooded in, the ambient flames in the corner made redundant by the natural sunlight. A figure stood in the doorway, shrouded in the light until he moved forward. He was skinny, not very built in stature, but he stood at least 6 foot, which made him taller than most of the occupants of the room already, bar Thor, Loki and Harry. He held his sword at the ready, moving further and further into the room with each delicate step, as though he walked on glass.
"Who-" the man opened his mouth to speak, but Harry had moved out of the shadows and with a deft flick of his wrist and own sword, had sent the man's sword clattering to the floor, the noise failing to mask the yelp of surprise that followed.
"That's no way to greet guests, brother." Harry said grimly, with clear distaste at referring to this man as his kin. His sword remained pointed towards his brother's chest as he spoke. Angrily, the smaller man smashed the sword away with his gauntlet, and nodded once in the direction of the strangers crowded around the long table, watching the proceedings with interest.
"Who are they?" he demanded hotly, dark eyes suspicious.
"It's nothing for you to worry about, John. What are you sneaking around here for anyway?" Harry shot back, resheathing his sword and fixing John with a questioning stare.
"I heard voices," John shrugged, "Nothing major, just voices coming from the hall. Foreign ones. I didn't think they were rebels, you know, it is not as if you have hundreds of fools after you and your crown."
"I appreciate your concern, although I do not doubt that you would do little more than help them if that were the case." Harry sneered, eyes narrowing as he watched John moving away with every step he took in his direction.
"Perhaps you could be useful and go find Erik. If that's not too difficult for you." Harry scoffed, abandoning his pursuit and simply stepping back.
"Oh, I think I can manage." John scowled and left, stomping his way out.
"You forgot your sword!" Harry called, breaking out into mocking laughter as John reappeared, fuming as he went to get his sword.
"You think yourself clever?" John grumbled, drawing the blade on the stone floor with a grating screech as he picked it up.
"I do, actually." Harry smirked, seeing the opportunity for a wind up and grabbing onto it with both hands. He resented John. This man was supposed to be his brother, yet he'd broken all bonds they shared the day their father had proclaimed Harry crown prince. Of course, Harry took it to be jealousy, and had offered John the throne the day their father died, knowing that he himself would hate the burden. It had been a selfish move on his part, and predictably, John refused. That much Harry could understand, but it was when John then fled to Wales and left Harry to deal with complications brought across from Henry VI's reign. After that, their relationship deteriorated past the point of repair. In short, they hated each other and it was clear to see.
"You're insufferable!" John spat, his breaths becoming short and angry, words beginning to spill out through gritted teeth.
"I'm bad? You just loiter around this place, pretending to be of use, and when something like this happens, you go running off-" Harry stepped forward, arms outspread in an attempt at a peaceful gesture, but the clenched fists gave away his rising anger.
"I don't run off-"
"Oh, pardon me. You conveniently leave when I get stuck with our father's problems, and then you dare to return and take the glory for yourself!" Harry's voice steadily grew louder, and angry tremors began to make their way down his spine as he drew his arms back to his sides, aware of John drawing his sword up, as if to strike.
Another moment passed where neither brother spoke or moved, each sizing up the opposition and rating their chances if a fight was to break out. Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and a smooth, passive mask slipped onto his face as he opened his mouth to speak.
"Get out." the lack of anger in Harry's tone only emphasised the true fury he now felt, watching someone he'd once loved aiming a sword in his face. To invite battle with another was a sign of your hatred, and the hostility in John's stance was certainly enough to subdue Harry for the time being.
"I will not fight you. Get out." Harry tried again, with a better result this time, as John lowered his sword fully, his steely gaze lingering for a few seconds longer, before he turned on his heel and strode out.
"And I thought our two had brother issues." Tony mumbled to Steve around a mouthful of bread, resulting in an unceremonious spray of breadcrumbs over the soldier, who shook them off his jacket with a deflated sigh.
A.N: Guess what? You guys, your reviews, follows and favourites made me want to see this one through! However, this was only meant to be a simple writer's block workthrough, and I'll be returning to Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey after this chapter, but there will be chunks of the next chapter on the back burner, so to speak. I'm so glad that you guys enjoy this story, and so I'll leave you with this chapter for now - I hope you enjoy it!