Brunnhilde hadn't planned to actually offer Sif a chance to spar. She'd only told Loki that she would think about it, not that she'd do it. And she'd only gone to the King's Spear because she liked the voda and the matron was good about keeping the other guests from bothering her. That Sif frequented the establishment was entirely a coincidence. Brunnhilde certainly hadn't been waiting for an opening to talk to her. She didn't miss the sort of companionship Sif had with the big one with the long beard and the stoic Vanr.
When Fandral arrived, head held low in shame and looking to make his apologies, Brunnhilde had watched covertly from the bar. How quickly would Sif and the other two forgive him for betraying their adopted Jotun prince, especially when Sif had good reason to be cross with Loki? Loki had feared Brunnhilde would kill him on that awful ship if she found out what he was, and that fear must have come from somewhere (well, somewhere besides her having already thrown a dagger at him). If not from his family, then these four were her next guess.
Fandral left a minute later, as dejected as when he arrived, his friends having not been happy to see him at all. The next thing Brunnhilde knew, she was walking to the training grounds with Sif, the other two trailing in their wake. From the moment she'd made the offer to Sif, it was like she'd shown a wolf pup a stick she was about to throw. Norns.
"Obviously I've never sparred against a real Valkyrie before," said Sif, her words coming faster and at a higher pitch than usual. "I did try visiting the Matriarchs on Vanaheim when I was a girl to see if they would train me, but they wouldn't do it, so I had to learn what I could from the records."
A horrible jolt went through Brunnhilde. She hadn't thought about the Matriarchs in...she didn't know how long. Her own mother hadn't survived her time among the Valkyrior, but the majority of those who lived long enough to retire from service went to Vanaheim where the winged horses flew. Just because Brunnhilde's entire cohort was dead, it didn't mean every Valkyrie who'd ever served was. A little piece of her shriveled up and died at the thought of any of those women learning how she'd spent her time since her impossible survival on Niflheim.
"In truth, I don't often have female opponents at all," Sif prattled on, oblivious. "I don't know if I've ever fought an opponent shorter than me! Normally I'm sparring with Einherjar or the Warriors Three or the princes. Oh, but are the training grounds the best place? We could go to the Aeries if you'd rath—"
"No," Brunnhilde cut her off. "The training grounds are fine."
"Very well. If you haven't been back there yet, you should know that it's been taken very good care of. I wish I could've seen it when it was full of warriors and their flying steeds."
Sif might as well be her as a little girl. Brunnhilde gritted her teeth. That little girl had been an idealistic fool.
X
Ava paced her flat restlessly. Bill should be here any minute to help her move her quantum chamber to a safe location. She hadn't told him why she was leaving SHIELD (the less he knew, the less trouble he'd be able to get in because of her), but he hadn't asked.
There was a knock on the door. She let herself fade until she wouldn't be seen, then stuck her face through the door. It wasn't Bill. It was Agent Barton. She glanced around. He was alone, or appeared to be, and he carried no weapons. She hesitated, then retreated back inside, made herself corporeal again, and opened the door.
"Why are you here?" she asked before he could speak.
"You haven't had any other visitors, have you?"
"No." She neglected to mention Bill. One way or the other, Barton would be gone before he showed up. She moved aside so he could come in.
"Is your apartment secure?" he said once the door was closed behind him.
"I checked it as soon as I got back."
"Good." He turned to face her. He had a way of looking at her that felt like he was more of a concerned uncle type than a fellow agent. It wasn't that different from how Bill looked at her. But she knew it was real with Bill; Barton could just be playing a part. "Fury sent me to help you lie low. He wants Hydra to suspect an inside job. Could make it easier to take them down."
She stared. She'd murdered the link between SHIELD and the WSC, a man who held equal rank to the Director. And that was just...okay because he was also Hydra?
Her incredulity must have shown. He took a step closer, that concerned look intensifying. "You still have allies, Ava."
She stepped back. "I know I have. I'm just not sure you're one of them." A wave of tearing pain crashed over her, and she couldn't stop the groan that escaped her. She really should have spent the whole morning in the quantum chamber, but she'd been too busy preparing to leave.
"Are you okay?" said Barton, though he didn't try to come nearer this time.
She shot him a sneer. "My body has been ripping itself apart and putting itself back together at the cellular level every day since I was nine, and yesterday I found out the people who promised to fix it have really just been using me. What do you bloody think?"
"But you're a kid!" he blurted, looking appalled.
She smiled bitterly. "Are you sure you know who you're working for? Unique assets don't get to be that."
Some of the color drained out of his face. That, at least, she doubted he could fake. He swallowed. "I get why you don't want to trust me. But I'm still gonna do what I can to keep Hydra off your back, and once we get rid of them, I'll make sure that SHIELD becomes something that wouldn't take advantage of kids who need our help. In the meantime, I know some pretty smart people—not part of SHIELD—who might be able to help you."
"What, you mean the Avengers? Stark and Banner?"
"Yeah. Maybe the Asgardians too. Their technology makes ours look like a joke."
She watched him, looking closely for any sign it was a trick.
He sighed. "Just think about it, okay?" He pulled a small slip of paper out of his pocket. "And contact me if you ever need anything." He set the paper down on the small table in the entryway, then turned and left the apartment.
X
Thor walked out of the briefing room feeling very disgruntled. Why were some mortals so opposed to hearing the fun parts of stories? Just because the main purpose of a discussion was gathering important intelligence against an enemy didn't mean that had to be all there was to it. But perhaps when you weren't likely to live to see even a full century, you felt a greater urgency about getting to the point.
He spotted Coulson stepping out of an office farther down the hall and hailed him. Coulson looked around and slowed down so Thor could catch up before he got into the elevator.
"Done with the meeting already?"
"The meeting's done with me, more like. Loki's still in there. They think he's better suited to covert strategy and such."
"Exactly how right are they about that?"
"One time I led Loki and our friends to a hostile world, marched directly into the royal court, and started making accusations straight to the king's face."
"Impressive," said Coulson.
Thor grinned ruefully. "I'm not quite so hopeless as that anymore. Did Barton and Romanoff tell you about Sakaar?"
"I haven't had a chance to get to the report. Want to tell me yourself over lunch?"
"Certainly!" said Thor, very pleased. Even if Fury and Hill didn't appreciate his storytelling, the son of Coul might.
X
The boxes of files on the second half of the 20th century and the beginning of the 21st kept coming, and Steve had read through the night and skipped breakfast to pore through them. He spent a disproportionate amount of time on the latter half of the '40s. How the Allies had won the war, the subsequent treatment of the defeated Axis powers. The sheer scale of the Holocaust—they'd already known some of it by early '45, but these files contained statistics and photographs of mass graves and the "walking skeletons" rescued from camps just weeks after Steve had gone into the ice.
He read about the long years of the Cold War. Romanoff apparently was a product of it, and much of SHIELD's work before the '90s had been concerned with combatting Soviet infiltration and sabotage attempts. That entire period was discouraging to read about. Before World War II, the general attitude towards the Soviets hadn't been great, but Steve never would have imagined his country and theirs would spend the next four decades in a tense nuclear standoff full of espionage and proxy wars. The Iron Curtain and the Red Scare were a striking contrast to the strong alliance the US built with post-war Japan.
And then there were Korea, Vietnam, and the wars in the Middle East. As someone who had lost his father to a war before he was even born and lost friends to its sequel, Steve couldn't help feeling disheartened by how few of the years he'd missed had been peaceful ones.
All the while, technology and medicine had advanced beyond recognition, music was different, buildings were different, even the way people talked was different. Steve hadn't felt so unprepared to fight Hydra since Erskine's murder. Maybe not even then. They very much had the home-field advantage on him now, and no matter how many files he read, he doubted he'd be able to change that. He might be more of a liability to this mission than a help.
By midday, his stomach became too insistent to ignore. Having quadruple the metabolism of the average person tended to require a lot of fuel. He headed down to the mess, where he found Thor surrounded by a small crowd of wide-eyed SHIELD agents, including Dr. Simmons, the agent who'd given him his lanyard, and one who'd stammered through describing his collection of vintage Captain America trading cards.
Thor was on his feet, gesturing enthusiastically with a hammer the size of a cinder block, apparently halfway through a story about a battle. "At last, I got the signal from Barton and Romanoff, so I stopped going easy on him," he said. Then he spotted Steve, and stood up straight from his crouch. "Rogers! Sorry, you'll all have to wait a moment for the rest." A collective groan went through his audience, but he paid them no heed and bounded over to Steve.
"You wanted to talk to me?"
"Yes, I've something important to tell you about Hydra."
Steve shot an alarmed glance at the agents ahead of him in line for food. What the hell was Thor doing mentioning Hydra out in the open?
"Oh, don't worry, you're the only one who can understand me right now," said Thor. Sure enough, the only other people in earshot were staring at Thor like he was speaking total gibberish. Thor smiled blandly at them and they looked away, bewildered.
"Uh...okay?" said Steve.
"I—er, Heimdall, that is, the Gatekeeper of Asgard, he was able to spare a moment to look for Hydra activity, and he...recognized one of the men at a facility of theirs."
Having only met the guy a day ago, Steve couldn't be quite sure if Thor was just excited or if he was being very strange, but he didn't question it. "Recognized him? From what?"
"From the war you fought in," said Thor. His eyes were wide, like he was trying to give Steve an important hint.
"Like...a veteran?" said Steve. "Yeah, there are still a lot of those around, I've been told." He'd been tossing around the idea of going to an old folks' home to meet a few of them, maybe get some perspective on his missing decades from his actual peers instead of dry files for a change.
"No, Heimdall said he still looks young. He's been made to serve Hydra's purposes, though he was one of the valiant warriors who fought at your side." Thor's eyes got wider still. Steve had no idea what he was getting at, but his heart was speeding up. "Heimdall was surprised to see him alive, after his seeming demise decades ago. When he fell from a great height towards a frozen river."
All the air vanished from the room. Steve's ears were ringing and the colors of Thor's armor and the food packaging grew brighter.
Bucky.
Of everything that had happened in the last few days, this made the least sense, particularly considering the source, and yet he wanted it to be true more than he'd ever wanted anything. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" If he wasn't, they were about to find out how the serum compared to the durability of Asgardian noses.
Thor's face was full of sincerity and a level of empathy Steve couldn't account for. "He's alive, Rogers. Hydra has him, but he's alive. I thought you should be the first to know." He clapped a hand to Steve's shoulder. "Not everything from your time is lost to you."
X
There were two ways bouts could work in the training grounds. You could battle against the foe constructs—conjured enemies made of light whose behavior was governed by examples from archived conflicts. You could also battle live opponents. A generation or so ago, the latter had resulted in so many wounds that it accounted for most of the patients the healing rooms saw during times of peace, but clever seidr architects had implemented a system that significantly reduced these injuries. When activated, the network of spells prevented any bladed weapon from actually piercing or cutting living flesh. Instead, an effective strike would merely leave a red streak upon the target to indicate a hit (and likely at least a minor bruise underneath).
Within half an hour of sparring with Brunnhilde, Sif had accumulated more red streaks than she had in any bout since her early years of training, while only managing to score a handful of times. If her opponent had been anyone else, it would have been a severe blow to her pride, but she was simply in awe. The Valkyrie commander was nothing short of a genius of martial combat, her movements an efficient blend of grace and brutality. Watching the records couldn't come close to the experience of actually facing her. The few hits she'd managed to land on her were worth more than a dozen victories each.
"Had enough?" Brunnhilde asked through gritted teeth as Sif barely managed to get her sword up to guard against a downward strike from the Dragonfang.
"Of course not!" said Sif, panting slightly. She pressed the release that split her sword into two separate weapons and struck at Brunnhilde's leg, only for her to catch it on a dagger. "I haven't had this much fun in ages!"
"Certainly not from a bout you were losing, anyway!" Volstagg called from the stone benches. Sif rolled her eyes, a lapse in attention that cost her another strike, this time on the shoulder.
"Is this what training would be like?" Sif asked.
Brunnhilde's eyes flashed, and Sif's smile faltered.
"You think you're ready to train as a Valkyrie?" said Brunnhilde.
She did a complex bit of footwork almost reminiscent of the Valknut dance steps, and suddenly Sif's right foot was being swept out from under her. She landed hard enough on her back for the breath to whoosh out of her. "I'm ready!" she declared. It came out more of a gasp than she wanted, but that couldn't be helped.
Brunnhilde continued to advance rather than giving her a moment to get to her feet. "Yeah? Ready for what, exactly?" She struck, and Sif parried from the ground, trying to put more distance between them. "To be the most celebrated sacrificial lamb in the realm? How about to watch everyone you love slaughtered by your king's butcher of a daughter?"
Sif stared at her in dismay. She took another two strikes before managing to push herself back up. "I—"
"You want to know what being a Valkyrie got me next?" Brunnhilde was shouting now. She shoved Sif hard in the breastplate, sending her flying back with enough force to collide with the low stone wall yards behind her, and still Brunnhilde advanced. "It got me stuck in a box on display for a hundred years!" In two swift moves, she used the Dragonfang and dagger to flick both halves of Sif's weapon out of her hands. "There was no escape, not even death. None of my training, none of the battles I won helped me. Then I got a choice: stay in the box or put other people in chains. I chose the latter."
Sif tried to move around her, but the arm with the dagger clotheslined her across the throat while the blade sliced through the mail atop her shoulder and pinned her to the wall. Brunnhilde raised the Dragonfang to point it directly into Sif's face. "Does that sound glorious to you? Is that what you want to sign up for?!"
Sif couldn't speak. She was going to be covered in bruises later, but she didn't care. She felt tears prickling, partly in humiliation but mostly in horror at what one of her greatest heroines had endured. "I'm sorry," she said. "Please forgive my presumption."
Brunnhilde backed away as if Sif's words had burned her, chest heaving and eyes wide. She turned and saw Volstagg and Hogun staring at her. They'd come up off their seats as if uncertain whether to intervene or not. She looked back at Sif once, then pulled the dagger free and fled the training grounds.
Brunnhilde might be the hardest character to write. Harder than Sif and the Warriors Three, somehow. I got stuck a lot trying to write the scenes with her and Sif. I've known for a long time that I wanted this sparring match to result in all of Brunnhilde's baggage exploding everywhere, but that's so much easier said than done. By the time I finally figured out how to do it, I'd come up with more Valkyrie lore (the Matriarchs, which I'm pretty excited to incorporate) and a new mechanic for the training grounds (the spell system that prevents stab wounds). There are a couple more hints in there about what happened to her between Niflheim and Sakaar. Been slowly teasing that out over the course of her scenes. I feel like I have a better handle on her now and some character arc stuff for her separate from Loki.
Clint successfully tracked Ava down, not that it's super hard to find her in her own flat. Someone in the reviews asked if he was going to end up adopting her like he does the Maximoffs, and...I honestly hadn't thought of that but at this point, probably. It's up to her, though. She has serious, understandable trust issues.
Now Steve knows about Bucky! Hooray! Thor is such a dork. It's a good thing Steve doesn't know him better. Also I enjoyed using Coulson as the transition to get Thor from the briefing room to the mess hall where he'd spot Steve. (Fitz was probably one of the agents in Thor's audience if Simmons was, but Steve doesn't know his name, so we'll never be sure.)