Philip Coulson's mind is not his own. There is a slavish, devoted dog of a thing pasted over the top of it, a worshipful slave to an alien will. He has tried to get past it, carefully, one after another every method he can conceive of, applying his own stock of determination to it in steady pressure searching for the slightest hint of a give. It had been a useless experiment. Whatever 'magic' – as the Asgardian race calls it – has him in its grasp, he can't break it. He has analysed it from every angle he can think of and still... nothing.
This is what Clint has been subjugated to over the past few weeks. It was painful enough merely knowing the bald facts of it – Phil has enough experience in the intelligence industry to have a fairly comprehensive understanding of brain-washing and the deep variety of ways it can fuck someone up. Much worse feeling it for himself. It's bad enough that his actions aren't his own, but it's the ardent faith of the thing that is now in control that really grates on him. Phil has always been dedicated to his work, but he's been careful not to fall into that kind of trap of patriotism and fanaticism that leads to wilful human rights abuses, torture of innocent people, and worse. He's always loved his country, or rather the ideals it was founded on – which no doubt has something to do with his early crush on Captain America – but he knows not to go too far. He'll do what's necessary to keep it safe, but there's lines he has drawn for himself that he will not cross over. For one, civilians are off limits, always.
The thought that Loki, with a word, could make him desecrate all his morality is enough to chill him to the bone.
Phil is well aware that Clint is a lot less fussy, morally, than he is, but he'll not insult his own partner by thinking this might somehow have been easier for him. This removal of all autonomy, this mental violation, it's a concrete example of all those instinctive body horror tropes that fill movie theatres for a reason. It awakes innate revulsion. No-one ought to be subjugated like this.
He does not put much stock in Loki's words to him that Clint has somehow given in and gone over to his cause. If the mythology is to be believed, and they have evidence enough that at least some of it has a basis in fact, Loki has always been known as a trickster, and Thor's words only bear that out. What sort of gullible idiot would he be if he took a trickster's words at face value? He'll admit he had a few moments of automatic disbelief and fear, but his common sense soon took over, the multiple possibilities of actual events given the sparse facts he knows. Phil will judge the evidence of his own eyes, if in fact he even gets the opportunity to assess the situation. As it stands, he hasn't seen Clint at all yet.
If Loki was telling the truth about that much, somehow his partner managed to break free of his mind-control on the Helicarrier, or was broken free by outside means. That is some comfort at least, to know Clint is himself again. But equally true is the fact that Phil is acting as hostage as well as slave, and if things go badly for SHIELD and the Avengers when they fight the alien – whether or not the story of planning to lead the Chitauri to defeat is true, which admittedly seems believable, high probability – that situation is not likely to change. He has no doubts that had he been given a similar ultimatum when Clint had still been in Loki's power, he would have given in. Searched for all possible alternatives, of course, but submitted in the end anyway.
Love may be a liability, but to deny it is to deny being human. And though Phil does try very hard, even he never claimed to be a perfect spy.
At the moment he has little to do but think. Driving the rented truck out of New York City takes longer than expected, for the roads outside of Manhattan are choked with vehicles heading away from the island. An evacuation order – Fury's doing no doubt. It seems that the part about Clint giving away the location of the portal was true, although – he comforts himself – it does not follow that the rest was. For one thing, he has managed to establish enough about the mental construct that currently overrules him that he knows it is certainly impenetrable by any force of will, however determined. Willpower has always been something of a... specialty... of his. Unless there's some particular method of thought that provides a way around it, he can't see how Clint would have gotten the freedom to suggest any changes to Loki's plan.
A certain wisp of an idea condenses... perhaps one might subsume the self into the slave super-ego, resorting to willing capitulation... No. He doesn't want to consider the idea. That way leads to thoughts of Stockholm Syndrome, of a process that has all the horrible sense of inevitability to it and so which he cannot allow himself to think of. The repulsive, unnatural thoughts that float just above his own are enough of a drain on his sanity without compromising it any further.
In the mess of traffic, with the heights of skyscrapers all around, it is impossible to see if battle has broken out. The slave-mind has no real curiosity, as its faith in its master and his inevitable victory is absolute. He has no idea what's going on, which is intolerable for a man used to having all the resources of SHIELD at his fingertips. He simply has to sit and stew, a prisoner in his own body.
About two and a half hours after he left Stark Tower, by which time he is out of the city proper and into the suburbs, some kind of subtle mental prompting makes the controlling self pull up in the car park outside a Taco Bell. The sight of it reminds him that it has been some time since he last ate, but while he doesn't think the slave-mind would have any objection to getting food – it wants to keep itself strong for its master – it appears to be waiting for something.
It doesn't take long to find out what that something is. Footsteps approach, loud on the asphalt, and then Loki appears at his window. He looks significantly the worse for wear, his face cut up, his armour dull and everywhere seemingly coated in a thin layer of what looks like concrete powder. Iron Man, Thor or Hulk, Phil thinks; the only three possessing the capability to do that. He wonders which it was. The sight makes the dog-loyal self – well, Phil has always been a cat person – fill up with overwhelming concern, which is nauseating. Yet he himself would actually take some comfort in the sight if the alien wasn't smiling so widely.
"You may leave this vehicle where it is, Agent Coulson," Loki says. "We shall not be needing it for the next part of our journey."
The slave-mind opens the door and climbs down to join its master. The sceptre is nowhere to be seen, but instead Loki is carrying a very familiar case. The Tesseract. Phil's heart sinks as scenarios flit through his mind. Chitauri and Avengers dead, Chitauri dead and Loki escaped, Chitauri alive and Loki escaped... insufficient information to come to any conclusion. And then he catches sight of Clint and every part of him comes to a sudden, shuddering halt.
He looks... not well, for there's dirt, and scabbed over scrapes, and runnels of dried blood. But alive, and mostly healthy, and smiling in what is clearly honest relief of his own. Under any other circumstances Phil would be right at his side, embracing him, breathing in his scent, but he can't. He can't move, because the other-self, the slave, does not care about Clint in the slightest. Its mind is only for Loki, smug and self-assured.
But as it happens he does not need to move, because Clint moves for him. He comes close and wraps his arms around him and mutters nonsense into his ear, half-sobbing expressions of love and thankfulness at seeing him again. Phil... Phil still cannot move, cannot return the gesture as every part of him that is him wants to. All the slave-mind does is turns its head to look at Loki. Looking for instructions. Looking for permission.
Loki nods, and as he crooks his fingers in some arcane gesture his control spell washes aside like water breaking over a rock. Not gone – Phil can still feel it in the back of his subconscious – but for now he is free. Free to grab onto Clint like a man saved from drowning, free to whisper his own words of comfort in return.
He does not forget that Loki is still there, and though most of him in swept up in the joy of reunion with the man he loves, there is a part of him that he holds back, analyzing every option for taking the alien down. Phil does not set too much stock in revenge and retribution, but this being is a clear and present threat to everything he has ever sworn to protect. He has seen enough of Loki to come to a few conclusions about his character. Mad. Broken. Vicious, though not uncontrolled. Outside of the prevailing moral codes of humanity, certainly. Phil did not particularly care what might have made him this way – his priority was dealing with the danger as it existed. But there is nothing here that even his inventive mind can use as a weapon, and Loki has his magic.
When he raises his head from Clint's shoulder, Loki is smiling at him as though he knows precisely what was just going through his mind.
"No doubt the two of you have much to discuss," the so-called god says. "Though mayhap here is not the best place for it."
"Yeah," Clint says, letting go and taking a step back. His bow, Phil notes, is slung over his back along with an empty quiver. "You never did say what the plan was from here, boss."
The mere sound of those words coming out of Clint's mouth is enough to make him flinch, though he's trained enough to hide it, or mostly hide it. Normal rules of perception are unlikely to apply to alien races. The universe is becoming a stranger and stranger place with each passing year. Worse though; he can't tell if Clint is under Loki's spell or if this is a genuine shift of allegiance. All his fears have come flooding back. Imagine that servile personality washing over yourself for weeks instead of merely hours... how easy would it be to lose yourself in that? Stockholm Syndrome is enough of a concern under normal circumstances without adding 'magic' to the mix.
"We still have unfinished business with those scientists and minions who proved so useful," Loki replies. "Deals must be concluded, payment given. I have loosed Selvig permanently now, for he is no longer of any use, and deserves his freedom. Though I suppose releasing his friend is more than Thor deserves."
"Yeah, he was being kind of a douche-bag back in the tower," Clint says. "Hopefully you sticking some memory of yours in his head will make him realise a few things." For the moment Phil is content to be quiet, taking in the information. Every scrap helps him build up a picture of what went on in Manhattan, helps guide his choices as to the correct action to take – assuming he has the chance. There's usually a chance, if you're patient enough to wait for the right moment.
"I have no great hope for it," Loki says. "It is no longer my problem, or at least not until I have examined the Tesseract and learned how to use its great power safely. I can be patient to take my revenge upon Asgard."
Phil makes a decision. A direct approach might get him further, or at least tell him if Clint is... himself. "Mind telling me what this is all about?" he asks his partner quietly. Clint looks abruptly somewhere halfway between guilty and defiant. Not a good combination.
"It's kind of a long story," he says. "I did what I had to do to minimize casualties, and I think it turned out pretty well. I never meant for you to get involved like this though."
It's looking less and less likely that Clint is still subject to Loki's control. Phil's heart sinks further. If his partner has really thrown in his lot with this alien out of some misplaced sense of sympathy, what, realistically, can he do about it? Deprogramming has never been his specialty.
"As I said," Loki interrupts. "Better you talk this over once the rest of our business has been concluded. I have a number of boltholes spread o'er Yggdrasil's branches, and I can assure you of their complete safety. Even if the Chitauri managed to wrest their locations from my mind, they no longer have any way of getting to them, and no further hold on me or my seid. My word was given and my promise upheld, and that is the end of it."
"I'll explain all you want later Phil, I swear," Clint says.
Phil doubts his personal preferences have any kind of sway here. Still he nods his assent – there is a chance, however slight, that he may lull Loki into complacency by going along with his plans. Yet he dreads the return of the slave-mind warping back over his own. To his surprise however, Loki does not reactivate it. He merely steps closer, forming a kind of triangle between the three of them. The scent of ozone suddenly fills the air and all around the very fabric of reality seems to ripple.
Something like the pressure of a hand on his back prompts him to take a step forward, and the world changes.
Of the very depths of the travails his own brother had been subject to, Thor had been utterly ignorant. Now, that is no longer the case. Yet he can hardly believe that the memory Loki has shown him is naught but unvarnished truth, for all that he saw it with his very own eyes, felt it with the bone-deep surety of experience shared. It seems madness that all this can have come to pass with no knowledge of it in Asgard. Heimdall Ever-Watching had been searching for Loki all throughout Yggdrasil before finally coming upon him out in the very wastes of the Great Tree, and it had been his words that had led them to knowledge of the Chituari, the curséd alien army who – it appears – have done his brother great wrong. But naught had he said of this... this torture!
It makes no sense! How can the gaze of the Gatekeeper have failed? Some trickery of seid the creatures possessed, to hide their crimes from Asgard's eyes? Or – a near treacherous thought in itself – that this knowledge might have been kept from Thor. Is it possible that all others have deemed Loki beyond saving, condemned him for his actions that were Thor's own youthful, foolish crimes writ large? He'd thought this madness of Loki's random, a fever of the brain, but now it seems it may have been forced upon him. Indeed, it may have only been the shortness of the memory thrust into his mind and the protection of the fact that it was a memory that saved Thor from near the same fate.
Pain he has suffered before, but good pain, earned pain, the honest hurt of battle and questing. Not mindless, unending torture. What right would any man have to expect Loki to come out of that the same? And if he was already unstable, as his actions against Jotunheim seem to suggest – though what reason behind that lies yet unclear – how much worse must the Chitauri have made it?
Oh, Loki. Oh, brother. If only he had known he would have braved e'en a journey across that vast distance to rescue him. Loki is right to hate him, for it seems he abandoned him when he needed it most. Ignorance is no excuse, if it were only his arrogance still un-mastered that prevented him from pressing harder, investigating further... if indeed truth has not been told in Asgard.
And it seems in the end Loki saved himself when Thor could not. A feint, an illusion of obedience such that none of them – save perhaps the Man of Iron – saw through. Thor could not see through it, and he should have been able to. He has neglected the closeness they once shared in their youth, centuries past, and this is the price of it. A sundering. A family broken apart. Thor's fault, for the most part, in his blindness, in his curséd arrogance! Foul word for foul deeds and his own crimes gone unpunished for too long!
He does not wish to lay any of this blame upon his father, but the more he is forced to confront the consequences of his own actions, the more Thor wonders if mayhap there is some blame to be spread so far. An uncomfortable conclusion, for how can the King and Lord of Asgard have made a mistake? Odin is wisest of all – what right has Thor to suggest otherwise? Yet... even a monarch may, perhaps, be mistaken. Not even the most powerful seer can see all ends of things. Not e'en his mother, bound by her own gifts to speak no word of her visions.
Aye, there is much here that is not right. Much that he wishes to make right. On the eve of his near-coronation Odin had given Thor words he had not yet been ready to hear, that Mjolnir had no equal in power in destruction yes, but also that it had no equal as a tool to build. Thor wishes to be worthy of that power, of all aspects of that power. Though he still has much to learn – as all this makes clear – one day he will be king, and if he is still naught but a weapon, a thing for killing and nothing more, what kind of king will he be? Odin struck their enemies down, but he also made Asgard great.
So must Thor learn to create and to mend. For the hammer is also the black-smith's tool, which is a thing he has never given much mind to. No more.
He has time to think over all these things as his war-band, still fresh-forged in battle's heat, makes their way to a place of victory feasting. He does not know yet what they discussed with his brother while he was in the grip of that terrible memory, but by their silence, the wary, watchful eyes of Stark, he is sure it likely reflected badly upon him. But perhaps that is necessary. These warriors, mortal though they may be, they deserve to know more of what in his own shame he has been unwilling to tell them.
Thus, as the surprised merchant greets their arrival and sets them down to await victuals 'on the house', which seems an impractical possibility, he comes to a resolution.
"My friends," he addresses the table, speaking for the first time since he awoke. "I have kept things from you and for that I am sorry. You are good folk and true, and you deserve to know what it is that has passed between my brother and me. Though a feast may not be the best place for such solemn words, should it please you I will tell of all that led up to this unfortunate day."
Huh. In all honesty Tony really thought they were going to have to resort to some fairly probing questions to get Eurovision here to open up. He's been wearing that kicked puppy look ever since Loki skedaddled and let him return to the land of the not-having-terrible-things-happen-in-your-head. Whatever memory Loki showed him has really given him a metaphorical kick in the stomach. Tony has a few ideas about what it could have been, none of them good and not made better by his own personal experience and active imagination.
"We're all ears," he says, glancing around the table at the others. And it has to be said, for all they just scored a victory for Team Planet Earth here today, nobody is exactly looking chipper. Tony guesses finding out you were a pawn all along for an alien sorcerer does kind of suck. And Romanoff is looking especially down now that her partner in spying, Agent Barton, has sauntered back on over to Team Morally Quite a Dark Shade of Grey. Food will help though he's sure, when it arrives. Thor's probably depressing story can hardly make things worse.
"It began... likely it began far before this incident, now that I give it mind," Thor says. "But to my knowledge it began on the day I was to be handed the crown of Asgard, to act in the interim while my father slept the Odinsleep, the first time I would be given such honour. But... I was not ready. I was arrogant, I thought too much of myself and my realm, I hungered after war. I wished to prove myself as my father had in the battles of his younger days. Loki my brother knew this – he has always seen the most clearly of all of us. Insight, deception, trickery, seidr, those are his gifts.
"Loki wished to prove to my father that I could not yet be trusted to take the throne. He opened a way to allow Jotnar – Frost Giants – into the weapons vault to disrupt the ceremony. In my outrage I vowed to go to Jotunheim and enact revenge for this transgression. No doubt Loki would say t'were his hand in that decision, but in truth I should have done it whatever his words."
Thor hangs his head; his hands are folded on the table in front of him. He's ashamed, Tony realises. He might have been the biggest jock to ever jock, by his own admission, but he's clearly learned his lesson since then. From the briefing packs he read, they can put that down to his 'banishment' to New Mexico and the actions of one astrophysicist Dr Jane Foster. If they ever meet, he'll have to congratulate her.
"We Aesir are a warrior race," Thor continues. "And killing in battle is what we take joy in. Yet I provoked that fight, and so the lives of those I killed are upon my head. It served no purpose, and it brought no honour to me or Asgard. I would have brought us to open war, had my father not appeased Laufey with my banishment. An act that did much good in the end, for it forced me to see myself as I truly was. Yet it was after that trip that the madness began to creep into Loki's mind.
"I knew none of this 'til after my return, but my father told me that it was on that fateful day that Loki found out the truth of his heritage." Here Thor pauses, his forehead furrowed in thought. Which, Tony thinks, may be a bit of a strain for him after all, since it's clear enough from what he's just been saying that he was brought up to be a warrior king, rather than one who gives a shit about politics. It seems like Loki was meant to take that role, which sounds about right from Tony's admittedly shaky grasp of history. Save the second son to act as an advisor, or to go out into risky diplomatic situations since it was less of an issue if he got his head chopped off.
"Yes," Romanoff says, "You mentioned Loki was adopted, but not much else." At Tony's left, Bruce pushes his glasses further up his nose. After he'd changed back, Tony had lent him some of his own clothes to wear, and he's pleased to see that they fit rather well, and certainly look a darn sight better than what Bruce had on when he met him on the carrier.
"If I understand the implication," Bruce says softly, "of your culture and the strength advantage you have over us... were you actually excusing Loki's small kill-count when Miss Romanoff brought that up?"
Thor shrugs, looking sheepish. "Well," he replies, "you must admit your mortal warriors of SHIELD are not the most challenging opponents. I am sure given the opportunity... Even considering that he does not use honourable weapons... Not that I am saying he was right to attack your people without provocation, for you are one of the Nine, not some backwater hunting world! Nor are you any threat to Asgard. But really, had he exerted himself I am sure he could have reached far more respectable numbers."
They have a very different culture to us, Tony reminds himself, while trying not to think too hard about the implications. They're aliens, you can't expect them to think the same way, or have the same concept of right and wrong. Still, if that's a 'poor showing', what exactly does Thor consider a good one? And what the hell are hunting worlds? And is he saying that if Earth posed some kind of 'threat' to Asgard, whatever that means in their terms, they would think themselves perfectly justified in some kind of pre-emptive strike?
He can see he's not the only one having bad thoughts about those last few sentences either. Bruce looks a little bit ill, Cap looks a mixture of shocked and outraged, and Romanoff... well, she's the Black Widow, she doesn't feel emotions like normal human beings do. But he thinks she's less than impressed.
Thor himself is looking rather puzzled at the reaction, but then the server comes over with plates of hot meat and sauce wrapped in pitta bread, breaking the tension, and drawing the Aesir's attention onto an equally important cultural value – the consumption of a metric fuck-ton of food.
The first plate of shawarma has disappeared down Thor's throat by the time the waitress has finished putting down the rest, and Tony says, "You might as well keep them coming – it looks like we've got a hungry bunch here." He gets a nod in reply, and the woman heads back towards the kitchen. The demi-god is licking sauce from his fingers with evident enjoyment.
"Your Midgardian fare is most satisfactory," he says. "But I have lost the thrust of my tale. I may not be able to see into my brother's mind enough to know how the revelation of his ancestry led to his actions 'pon the Bifrost, but if I set the events out for you all, you may have better luck than I. As to his most recent assault upon your realm, the vision he gave me made much clear. Yet I suspect that was much of what you discussed while I was incapacitated. I should have been more trusting of his word, but to my shame I confused his madness before with his madness now. Now I perceive they must have most dissimilar causes, though the former is still beyond my comprehension."
"We'll do what we can to make sense of it for you," Romanoff says, in a perfectly neutral tone. She's eating with careful bites that miraculously avoid spilling any sauce anywhere, which in Tony's opinion is just further evidence of her supernatural abilities. As for himself, he isn't quite sure yet whether he likes it.
"Some eleven or twelve centuries ago," Thor says, "the Jotnar invaded Midgard. Asgard assembled to stop them, led by Odin my father. We drove them back to their own world and beat them in glorious battle. The artefact that permitted them their power, the Casket of Ancient Winters, was taken from them. But my father took something else from Jotunheim that day."
"Let me guess," Tony says, seeing where this is going. "Loki."
"Aye," Thor replies. "King Laufey's own son, abandoned in their temple. When my father picked him up, his new-born seid permitted him to take on Aesir appearance. Odin took him in as his son, as my brother. None knew the truth of it until now."
Tony sighs. A few of the more obvious of Loki's issues are beginning to make perfect sense. Never matching up to the firstborn, the golden son, which is fairly literal in Thor's case. Seen as 'dishonourable' in some way, whatever that meant to the Aesir – though it was clear they took honour seriously, so that was probably a greater condemnation than Tony would otherwise have thought. And then you find out you're the kidnapped kid of a conquered people – a temple is, after all, a fairly strange place to abandon someone.
"It was unlucky that father fell into the Odinsleep whilst I was still banished," Thor continues. "The throne fell to Loki. I am the more sure now that I have seen the truth of his latest actions that he never wanted it, but to my friends, who had seen me so recently banished and were often... uneasy at the companionship of a seidmenn, it seemed suspicious. They travelled to Midgard to tell me what had occurred, and to persuade me to return home if they could. I had not intended to, but..." he sighs. "I suppose the madness had him in its grasp by then. He sent the Destroyer after me. I do not really blame him for it even now – he was not in his right mind, and it did not kill me, after all. But it made me see that something was very wrong, and that I must return.
"When I arrived Loki had tricked Laufey by promising him Father's head, but instead t'was Laufey who was slain. In his fevered state Loki had some idea of turning the Bifrost on Jotunheim, destroying it utterly. We fought. I could not let him do in major part what I had myself been so bloodthirsty to do in minor. In the end it was necessary for me to destroy the Bifrost to stop it. In the explosion of it, the both of us near fell into the void. Loki caught hold of Gugnir, Odin's spear of office, and my father, newly awakened, had hold of me."
He trails off into silence. Thor seems to be caught in the grip of a great deal of emotion. Tony has a dreadful sense that this is all starting to coalesce into one big fucked-up ball of damaged psychology that seems to have been steadily growing inside Loki's head until this last sequence of events tipped it over into critical mass. Goddamn space Vikings! It's clear they don't have therapists in Asgard.
"What happened then?" Cap asks, using some kind of 'you can trust me with your pain, good citizen!' voice. It seems to work though.
"Loki said... that he had tried to do this terrible thing for our father, for Asgard's sake. Odin... he meant to say that it had not been necessary, that Loki had no need to go to such lengths to win his approval, but my brother did not take it that way. I fear he believed our father to be condemning him. To be... casting him out, or like it. He let go. He fell."
There are tears glimmering in Thor's eyes. Tony is honestly completely crap at handling other peoples' shows of emotion. He doesn't know what to do other than simply forge ahead with the question he knows he has to ask, but desperately doesn't want to.
"Tell me what these Frost Giants are like," he says, "As a people, I mean."
Thor makes a face. "For the most part, untrustworthy, power-hungry, barbarous, vicious monsters," he replies. "But of course Loki is nothing like that. He was brought up as one of us, as an Odinson no less! Though I'll admit," he says, uneasily, "that there is an argument to be made that it was not a... a perfect transition. But to compare Loki's mild mischief – his momentary madness aside – with Jotnar foulness... No! That is in no way right!"
Oh god. There is no facepalm big enough for what Tony is feeling right now. Arggg, he could scream if he thought it would do anyone any good. Untrustworthy, of a demi-god known as the Lie-smith? Power-hungry, when his own brother's friends thought he'd gotten him banished to steal the throne? And then to be told that these personality 'failings', no doubt magnified in seriousness by the culture that had stolen him, were due to his birth as the son of the very worst of all the monsters... How could anyone think that would possibly turn out well? Combined with whatever he'd gone through at the Chitauri's hands... It's a wonder the guy is still functional at all.
"Well..." he says. "I can tell you that I'm pretty sure I know why your brother decided it would be a good idea to murder all the Jotnar. On the other hand, I'm not entirely sure you want to hear it."
Thor perks up at that, like the big golden retriever that he is hearing the promise of 'walkies'. "Whatever your conclusion friend Stark," he says. "Please share it. If I have been insufficiently humbled by my experiences thus far, 'tis better it be done quickly than let any arrogance of mine grow once more."
Tony sighs. Now, precisely how is he meant to go about explaining that his own culture has royally fucked his little brother over...