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Clint rolled his neck lazily and tilted his head back to rest against shoulders. Now that Loki was actually speaking audibly instead of doing that creepy telepathy thing, he was beginning to enjoy having the god chained up. "So, how do you know the mysterious M?"

"'Know' is the wrong term," Loki replied haughtily, barely masking a glare.

Clint grinned. Loki hated this. That made it even better. "Is there a different way you'd like to phrase it?"

"Yes," Loki said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Until now, I had never had the misfortune of meeting him personally. I have, however, heard stories."

"Of…?"

Loki twisted in his chains, sighing. "He is, essentially, what you Midgardians refer to as a private contractor. Rather like the previous profession of your fiery-headed mewling quim."

Clint leapt up from the floor and had a knife drawn across Loki's throat in seconds. "Don't you dare talk about her," he growled. "Ever."

"Duly noted," Loki replied dryly, barely keeping a smirk off his face at the rise he'd gotten out of the archer. "Though I make no promises. After all, I am the God of Mischief."

Resisting the ever-present urge to punch Loki, Clint returned to his previous position against the wall, but kept the kept the knife in his hands. "Keep going. Try to keep the insults to a minimum, asshat. So M is a mercenary?"

"That and much more," Loki continued calmly, his voice quickly recovering. "I do not think that is the reason why he captured us. If it was, we would likely already be dead. He is merely a middle man – albeit a highly skilled and dangerous one."

"So 'M' is for 'middle man?'"

"I do not know for certain. No being that I have ever encountered has lived to know his true name and origins."

Clint twirled the knife in his fingers, itching for his bow. The more he found out about this situation, the worse it got. "If he's not going to kill us, why bring us here at all?"

"I suspect that he captured us because we are wanted by someone or something else."

Clint tapped the knife against the ground, thinking. "He did mention something earlier about 'them.' I guess that's who he's holding us for. But why?"

Loki cocked his head to the side. "Your guess is as good mine, Clinton." The knife bounced off the wall inches to the side of the god's throat, prompting him to continue. "I have been alive for centuries, and have angered many beings across the nine realms. However, as of late, I have been tied up in a cell with a venomous snake. I am certainly interested in what they want you for, mortal."

Clint shrugged and retrieved the knife. He was changing his earlier opinion about an audible Loki. The god was getting more annoying by the second, and Clint was beginning to regret freeing his lips. The next time Clint threatened him he would have a hard time resisting the urge to go through with the kill. "Couldn't tell you. I disappeared in the middle of an op, though, so people on Earth will be looking for me."

"On Earth. They will be looking for you on Earth. I seriously doubt that we are still on Midgard," Loki pointed out, rolling his eyes. "I was taken from a cell in Odin's palace. My disappearance will also be noticed, though not missed," he finished bitterly.

"Nobody visits you?" Clint asked before he could stop himself. His time spent around Thor had given him the impression that no member of the royal family was ever lonely for long.

"Not often. Odin hasn't seen me since my sentencing. Thor visits on occasion, but his trips to the dungeon are short, loud, and usually involve him discussing his exaggerated exploits. Frigga comes regularly, even though seeing me in such a state causes her great pain."

Clint cocked his head to the side, examining Loki closely. During his short but painful duration as Loki's minion, the god had occasionally gone on rants about his intense hatred for Asgard, but had been careful to conceal any personal feelings. The story that Thor later told the archer explained some of Loki's past, but suffered from several gaping holes. As long as they were stuck together and Loki was safely chained up, Clint might as well find out exactly why Loki became a psychopathic inter-dimensional killer.

"So what happened after Thor dragged you back home? How long did they lock you up in the dungeons of your house?"

"Asgard is not my home," Loki snapped angrily, straining against his chains. "Whatever I once thought of it, it is no longer. To me, Asgard is a prison."

"Okay, okay, gotcha," Clint said quickly. He suppressed a smile. Finding Loki's weak spot had been surprisingly easy. He had no doubt that this conversation was going to be interesting. Clint settled back against the wall in silence and gave the god a few minutes to calm down before continuing.

"So, what happened on Asgard?"

Loki's eyes darkened. "We were greeted by a legion of warriors. Heimdall knew we were returning and warned them. Thor personally escorted me to Odin, who took the Tesseract and sent it to another dimension. The palace guards locked me in my bedroom, and I was sentenced the next day."

"Is that when…" Clint trailed off, gesturing to Loki's lips.

"Indeed. Odin sentenced me to an eon in the dungeons with a venomous serpent and sewn lips. A fate worse than death, in many ways."

"Why didn't he just kill you? Wouldn't that have been a lot easier?" Clint asked sharply. His common sense chided him for being so brash with a dangerous god. His common sense sounded a lot like Coulson.

"I suspect that Frigga and Thor requested that I be kept alive. I would rather have been dead."

"Thor really loves you, you know. Even after everything you've done," Clint said wistfully, ignoring his common sense again. Dammit. He had not meant that to come out that way. He was a highly skilled assassin. His voice wasn't supposed to be sappy and melancholy.

Loki nodded, conceding the point. "He does. The great buffoon has made that point exceedingly clear. That did not stop Odin from forcing him to sew my lips together. Though that was likely more of a public display of his power as King of Asgard."

Clint noticed that Loki's eyes had drifted away from his own. Once again, the archer had to force the pity away. Something struck him about Loki's story – a father who could be cruel, a brother who loved but didn't understand, and a mother who was torn between her love for her youngest son and her relationship with her husband and eldest son. It was too personal. Clint recoiled against the sudden rush of memories – his father, drunk, advancing on him with a bottle as he huddled behind his mother. A car crash that left him alone with no one but Barney. Barney, his only protector, stabbing him the abandoning him in the rain, leaving him to die in the cold.

He turned away from Loki. Five minutes ago, he had been debating whether or not to kill him. How had he gone from that to feeling sympathy? Turning his head to face the god again, Clint quickly changed the subject to distract himself from his own feelings.

"So, Frigga's your mother, right? What's she like?"

For the first time ever, Clint could have sworn that Loki was smiling at something that didn't involve mischief or lies. It was a genuine smile, one that traveled up his face and reached his eyes. "She is my adoptive mother, yes, though I never suspected it. Unlike everyone else on Asgard, she treated me as Thor's equal. It was she who encouraged me to continue to study sorcery even while the others began to turn their backs to me. Even now, I believe that she still thinks of me as her son."

"And do you still think of her as your mother?" Clint blurted out by accident. The mini Coulson in his head kicked him. Keep your mouth shut, Barton, or prepare to face the consequences.

Loki nodded. His eyes were bright and full of tears. "I do," he said softly.

Clint bit his lip. Here come the consequences. Suddenly it was much harder to keep the pity at bay. Too much of Loki's story paralleled his own. Clint understood what it felt like to be alienated in your own home and to have complete trust twisted into isolation and abandonment. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't hate Loki for his past. Clint looked down at his knife. Parts of him still resisted the sudden emotional onslaught, but his mind was made up.

Standing, Clint gripped the knife and climbed onto the rock to face Loki. "I want to get this straight from now. I hate you for what you did to me, the things you made me do, and all the things you did while you were playing your fucked up version of king of the world. I will never forgive you for killing Coulson. Got it?"

Loki nodded numbly, acutely aware of the proximity of the knife but unsure of where the one-way conversation was heading.

Clint sighed and flipped the knife in his hand. "But, seeing as how we're pretty much fucked anyway and since you've been punished pretty well, I'll let you down if you promise to play nice. That means keeping the comments and name calling to a minimum and not killing me, got it? Especially that last part?" Clint had to resist the urge to laugh. Years ago, when he had first started working for S.H.I.E.L.D, Coulson had given him speeches like that. Then again, more recently, to Natasha after Clint brought her in. The familiar words reminded him of his mentor.

Clint squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the memories. The last hour had been far too personal for his liking. Still, something told him this was the right move. "So, do you think you can handle that?"

The archer looked up. Shining green eyes met his grey-blue ones in a tacit promise. "Okay. Let's get you down."

I realize that this chapter was mostly about Clint sympathizing with Loki, but the common ground serves as the foundation for their upcoming adventures.