Avengers ficlets - gen and Loki/Clint, AU, post-film
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Title: even old New York was once New Amsterdam
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for the movie and Norse mythology
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 775
Point of view: third
Prompt: what Loki gets up to in his spare time
At first, he visits the library purely out of curiosity. He knows what the internet says about his fa - the royal family of Asgard. But Tony Stark rules the cyberworld and Loki is not quite ready for anyone to realize he has both escaped the All-Father’s cage and returned to Midgard.
So he wanders into a mortal library in the mortal town of Houma. It seems different from the cities he visited with his army. The library facility itself is impressive - he thinks the ‘main’ library will have more resources for his quest.
He’s wearing the guise of a ‘teenager’ with blond curls and bright green eyes (not quite his shade), and shyly enlists the help of a librarian. Soon enough, he has a stack of reference materials and a table all to himself. He picks up the first, an encyclopedia of Norse mythology, and pages through it.
Loki is thankful for the quick look he took at Wikipedia. He’d have been unable to contain his laughter otherwise.
Honestly - if he had any of those children, his true parentage would have come out much sooner. Not to mention, Hel is much older than Odin. Than Asgard, even. And Jörmungandr… the World Serpent had always been, curled around Yggdrasil, entwined in the branches. They are as old as magick itself, and fascinating to listen to (not that Thor ever believed him).
And his fa - Odin’s favorite horse! Now, that one, he really had to smother his cackle in his hands.
The wall had long been built when Odin stole him from Jötunheimr. Loki likes horses well enough, but honestly. The things mortals believe.
Fenrir, though… he gently strokes the illustration of the giant wolf. Fenrir was real, had been a wolf pup he brought home after an adventure with Thor. But Ālfar wolves do not make good pets and Odin ordered the wolf sent back to Ālfheimr when Loki couldn’t hide him anymore.
At the time, Loki was furious and hurt, and he threw many tantrums. His magic acted out his rage for weeks. Now, looking back, he is glad Odin didn’t simply destroy Fenrir.
But Fenrir is long gone, and Loki learned the lesson well: Thor could have anything he wanted. Loki could have only what he took and successfully hid.
The legend of Nari and Váli, though - even after the story of the dwarves sewing his mouth shut, Loki is not prepared for such bloodlust. To think his fa - Odin could be so cruel, to punish the children for the father’s sins…
He closes the book, tells the nice librarian there’s been a family emergency, and hurries out. Once past the door, he travels to his ‘hide-out’ - a rather nice apartment in Paris, France - and curls up on his king-size bed, buries himself beneath the blankets.
He does not cry, of course. He left all his tears on the Bifrost. He did not cry for Thanos or his servants; he’ll not cry over a few misguided mortals and what they think they know.
He’ll never cry again.
.
A week later, Loki goes to the largest library in New York. He skillfully avoids seeing any of the damage Thanos’ failed invasion caused. It may have been the worst mischief of his life (or not. How badly did his madness scar Jötunheimr? Could it have been worse than the destruction caused by Thor’s arrogance? Every being in every realm would say yes, for Loki is no one’s friend. He’s not so sure.)
This time, Loki wears the guise of a young girl with dark skin and messy brown hair. Maybe Odin would know her, if they stood in front of each other. Maybe not. Loki’s magic has swollen since she fell. She is no longer Odin’s inferior in any way but blood, and it will take eons before she catches up to Odin’s bodycount.
(And how convenient that no one, including the All-Father, remembers his mother, a daughter of giants.)
Loki does not ask for a librarian’s help this time. Instead she locates the book herself, seemingly the most popular regarding Norse mythology, and takes it to an empty corner, where she settles with it in her lap.
None of these books are right. So, starting with this one, she corrects it. She links them by subject matter - every book that mentions her name is changed to reflect the one in her hand.
Every single Norse mythology text in Midgard will be reflecting the truth, now. Everyone will see how the All-Father lies, how foolish Thor is, how Loki is right.
Loki smiles down at the book and puts it back on the shelf.
Title: You owe your lives to sly Loki
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: post-film
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 365
Point of view: third
Prompt:
But when that storm god you all praise
Walks the earth and shatters trees
You huddle close beside my gift
And whisper prayers beside the spit
And as the woodsmoke turns and twists
You owe your lives to sly Loki.
(Mikael Hrafspa, "Loki's Song")
Anything with this, because it's a lovely song and I hadn't heard it in years and having it come up on the music shuffle makes me want fic with it. Dear anon, please make it happen. ♥ Bitterness and angst are a definite plus.
Thor is open war and honor, armies meeting face to face across the battlefield and marching into each other’s spears, each other’s swords, dying by the thousands. Thor is Asgard, a thousand years of golden peace because no one else is powerful enough.
But Loki… Loki is shadows and twists, Loki is guerilla warfare, Loki is patience and cunning and the perfect strike.
Thor is a good friend, brave and true. He is honorable and righteous and will do battle until he falls. Thor does not surrender, not since he lost Loki’s silver tongue.
But Loki… Loki surrenders. Loki falls to his knees and lets himself be thought beaten, and is locked away until the time is right.
Thor can lie by omission, but would much rather be forthright. Thor will not back down. He will shake worlds with the force of his anger, because he is Asgard and he will be king.
But Loki, sly Loki, he knows the power in bending the truth, in prevaricating, in a smiling lie.
And Thor, dear Thor, he enjoys the company of his new companions, the Avengers, the warriors who valiantly fought his brother’s army. But, with the exception of Banner’s beast and Captain America, they are not his kind of warriors. Even Iron Man prefers sly warfare - the warfare of Loki Liesmith.
Thor is unsure of how to explain without insult, so he holds his tongue, hating the feel of the lie.
(And Loki, sly Loki of the silver tongue, he is waiting. He is not beaten. And thunder rumbles, and worlds shake, and an archer dreams of shadows, and a spider analyzes weaknesses, and a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist researches.
Because Loki is not open warfare. Loki is not honorable. Loki survives, no matter the cost, and like calls to like, and when the time comes…
Oh, when the time comes. Those who are Loki’s do not die by the thousands. They strike only where needed, and regimes fall, and no one ever knows.
Imprisoned for the moment, Loki plans.)
Thor meets his enemies head-on, and it will kill him one day.
Loki stabs his enemies in the back, and he will be victorious.
Title: I live in lonely desolation and wonder when my end will come
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: a great deal of abstractness and imagery; past-mind control; thoughts of betrayal
Pairings: Loki/Clint
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 655
Point of view: third
He dreams of falling, and flying, of wings broken and healed, of hawks and ravens and phoenixes burning bright enough to light the sky aflame.
He dreams of death in a cage, and the door swinging open. Ice, a world full of it, and battle, always a hammer wielded by a god-prince, and falling, and flying, and wings, wings spread from one horizon to another, and - my god, my god - falling, and flying, and waiting.
my god.
Yes.
My Hawk.
Blue as the sky. Black as a moonless, starless night. Wings and blood and fire, falling - phoenixes on the rise.
He dreams of days without question, without fear. Days when he knows his purpose, when he had reason. Days of utter freedom, when he had only to obey the will of his king, his master - my god.
He dreams of days he misses on awakening. He dreams of things he cannot tell his ‘friends,’ the team of heroes. Things he cannot tell the shrinks he’s still ordered to see, nine months on. Things he tries to himself he doesn’t believe, when the sun is high and his eyes open wide.
my god.
Yes.
My Hawk.
He dreams of phoenixes and a sky on fire, of worlds dying and ancient ice thawing. He dreams of strong, sure fingers cupping the back of his head and a gentle, beloved voice murmuring, My Hawk.
my god.
Yes.
He fights beside Natasha and Tony and Bruce and Steve and Thor, whenever he’s around. He watches movies and laughs at jokes and prepares favorite foods.
And when he sleeps, he dreams. When he sleeps, he falls and he flies, and wings stretch across the horizon, and the sky burns.
The sky burns and he bows, he rises, he stands a step behind his god, guarding his back and keeping him safe (My Hawk) and he will defend, he will protect, he will eradicate anyone who dares deny, who dares defy -
my god.
Yes, he says in his dreams. Yes, he gives in, he gives up, he surrenders and spreads wide, giving all he is and all he has.
Yes, my god. Yes. All for you.
He wakes trembling with need, with want, and it takes longer each time to remember what’s real and what’s not.
But he knows what it means. Bone-deep, he knows.
He’s in freefall. And when Loki comes - which they all know he will - he’ll fly away.
Clint watches his team. He watches SHIELD. He’s been to every continent (even that godforsaken frozen wasteland) and most countries, and he’s smarter than anyone he knows gives him credit for. He’s no Tony Stark, but Tony Stark is no him, either.
He wonders, sometimes, if any of the rest of Loki’s minions are dreaming of phoenixes, or if he’s just that special.
my god.
Yes.
My Hawk.
He knows better than that. He’s just that special, and he keeps his mouth shut even as his body shudders for his god, and he is so severely fucked. They all are.
What is it, a latent program? He’s a sleeper agent, now, waiting for the trigger to go off and kill everyone for real?
No, because he’s not sleeping. He’s fully awake, and he still keeps silent.
Every time, he dreams of falling and flying and what must be his god’s life. But why is Loki allowing it?
What could a primitive backwater rock like Earth offer to a god, except to break his brother’s shiny new toy?
My Hawk.
He’s in freefall, waiting for the phoenix’s wings to spread from horizon to horizon. He doesn’t need to know the endgame. He doesn’t care about the endgame. He is a weapon, no matter who has him in hand.
Strong, sure fingers. A gentle, beloved voice. Ancient ice and a sky on fire.
Waiting.
My Hawk.
Yes.
my god.
The answer was always going to be yes.
.
.
.
.
.
Title: even old New York was once New Amsterdam
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for the movie and Norse mythology
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 775
Point of view: third
Prompt: what Loki gets up to in his spare time
At first, he visits the library purely out of curiosity. He knows what the internet says about his fa - the royal family of Asgard. But Tony Stark rules the cyberworld and Loki is not quite ready for anyone to realize he has both escaped the All-Father’s cage and returned to Midgard.
So he wanders into a mortal library in the mortal town of Houma. It seems different from the cities he visited with his army. The library facility itself is impressive - he thinks the ‘main’ library will have more resources for his quest.
He’s wearing the guise of a ‘teenager’ with blond curls and bright green eyes (not quite his shade), and shyly enlists the help of a librarian. Soon enough, he has a stack of reference materials and a table all to himself. He picks up the first, an encyclopedia of Norse mythology, and pages through it.
Loki is thankful for the quick look he took at Wikipedia. He’d have been unable to contain his laughter otherwise.
Honestly - if he had any of those children, his true parentage would have come out much sooner. Not to mention, Hel is much older than Odin. Than Asgard, even. And Jörmungandr… the World Serpent had always been, curled around Yggdrasil, entwined in the branches. They are as old as magick itself, and fascinating to listen to (not that Thor ever believed him).
And his fa - Odin’s favorite horse! Now, that one, he really had to smother his cackle in his hands.
The wall had long been built when Odin stole him from Jötunheimr. Loki likes horses well enough, but honestly. The things mortals believe.
Fenrir, though… he gently strokes the illustration of the giant wolf. Fenrir was real, had been a wolf pup he brought home after an adventure with Thor. But Ālfar wolves do not make good pets and Odin ordered the wolf sent back to Ālfheimr when Loki couldn’t hide him anymore.
At the time, Loki was furious and hurt, and he threw many tantrums. His magic acted out his rage for weeks. Now, looking back, he is glad Odin didn’t simply destroy Fenrir.
But Fenrir is long gone, and Loki learned the lesson well: Thor could have anything he wanted. Loki could have only what he took and successfully hid.
The legend of Nari and Váli, though - even after the story of the dwarves sewing his mouth shut, Loki is not prepared for such bloodlust. To think his fa - Odin could be so cruel, to punish the children for the father’s sins…
He closes the book, tells the nice librarian there’s been a family emergency, and hurries out. Once past the door, he travels to his ‘hide-out’ - a rather nice apartment in Paris, France - and curls up on his king-size bed, buries himself beneath the blankets.
He does not cry, of course. He left all his tears on the Bifrost. He did not cry for Thanos or his servants; he’ll not cry over a few misguided mortals and what they think they know.
He’ll never cry again.
.
A week later, Loki goes to the largest library in New York. He skillfully avoids seeing any of the damage Thanos’ failed invasion caused. It may have been the worst mischief of his life (or not. How badly did his madness scar Jötunheimr? Could it have been worse than the destruction caused by Thor’s arrogance? Every being in every realm would say yes, for Loki is no one’s friend. He’s not so sure.)
This time, Loki wears the guise of a young girl with dark skin and messy brown hair. Maybe Odin would know her, if they stood in front of each other. Maybe not. Loki’s magic has swollen since she fell. She is no longer Odin’s inferior in any way but blood, and it will take eons before she catches up to Odin’s bodycount.
(And how convenient that no one, including the All-Father, remembers his mother, a daughter of giants.)
Loki does not ask for a librarian’s help this time. Instead she locates the book herself, seemingly the most popular regarding Norse mythology, and takes it to an empty corner, where she settles with it in her lap.
None of these books are right. So, starting with this one, she corrects it. She links them by subject matter - every book that mentions her name is changed to reflect the one in her hand.
Every single Norse mythology text in Midgard will be reflecting the truth, now. Everyone will see how the All-Father lies, how foolish Thor is, how Loki is right.
Loki smiles down at the book and puts it back on the shelf.
Title: You owe your lives to sly Loki
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: post-film
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 365
Point of view: third
Prompt:
But when that storm god you all praise
Walks the earth and shatters trees
You huddle close beside my gift
And whisper prayers beside the spit
And as the woodsmoke turns and twists
You owe your lives to sly Loki.
(Mikael Hrafspa, "Loki's Song")
Anything with this, because it's a lovely song and I hadn't heard it in years and having it come up on the music shuffle makes me want fic with it. Dear anon, please make it happen. ♥ Bitterness and angst are a definite plus.
Thor is open war and honor, armies meeting face to face across the battlefield and marching into each other’s spears, each other’s swords, dying by the thousands. Thor is Asgard, a thousand years of golden peace because no one else is powerful enough.
But Loki… Loki is shadows and twists, Loki is guerilla warfare, Loki is patience and cunning and the perfect strike.
Thor is a good friend, brave and true. He is honorable and righteous and will do battle until he falls. Thor does not surrender, not since he lost Loki’s silver tongue.
But Loki… Loki surrenders. Loki falls to his knees and lets himself be thought beaten, and is locked away until the time is right.
Thor can lie by omission, but would much rather be forthright. Thor will not back down. He will shake worlds with the force of his anger, because he is Asgard and he will be king.
But Loki, sly Loki, he knows the power in bending the truth, in prevaricating, in a smiling lie.
And Thor, dear Thor, he enjoys the company of his new companions, the Avengers, the warriors who valiantly fought his brother’s army. But, with the exception of Banner’s beast and Captain America, they are not his kind of warriors. Even Iron Man prefers sly warfare - the warfare of Loki Liesmith.
Thor is unsure of how to explain without insult, so he holds his tongue, hating the feel of the lie.
(And Loki, sly Loki of the silver tongue, he is waiting. He is not beaten. And thunder rumbles, and worlds shake, and an archer dreams of shadows, and a spider analyzes weaknesses, and a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist researches.
Because Loki is not open warfare. Loki is not honorable. Loki survives, no matter the cost, and like calls to like, and when the time comes…
Oh, when the time comes. Those who are Loki’s do not die by the thousands. They strike only where needed, and regimes fall, and no one ever knows.
Imprisoned for the moment, Loki plans.)
Thor meets his enemies head-on, and it will kill him one day.
Loki stabs his enemies in the back, and he will be victorious.
Title: I live in lonely desolation and wonder when my end will come
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: a great deal of abstractness and imagery; past-mind control; thoughts of betrayal
Pairings: Loki/Clint
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 655
Point of view: third
He dreams of falling, and flying, of wings broken and healed, of hawks and ravens and phoenixes burning bright enough to light the sky aflame.
He dreams of death in a cage, and the door swinging open. Ice, a world full of it, and battle, always a hammer wielded by a god-prince, and falling, and flying, and wings, wings spread from one horizon to another, and - my god, my god - falling, and flying, and waiting.
my god.
Yes.
My Hawk.
Blue as the sky. Black as a moonless, starless night. Wings and blood and fire, falling - phoenixes on the rise.
He dreams of days without question, without fear. Days when he knows his purpose, when he had reason. Days of utter freedom, when he had only to obey the will of his king, his master - my god.
He dreams of days he misses on awakening. He dreams of things he cannot tell his ‘friends,’ the team of heroes. Things he cannot tell the shrinks he’s still ordered to see, nine months on. Things he tries to himself he doesn’t believe, when the sun is high and his eyes open wide.
my god.
Yes.
My Hawk.
He dreams of phoenixes and a sky on fire, of worlds dying and ancient ice thawing. He dreams of strong, sure fingers cupping the back of his head and a gentle, beloved voice murmuring, My Hawk.
my god.
Yes.
He fights beside Natasha and Tony and Bruce and Steve and Thor, whenever he’s around. He watches movies and laughs at jokes and prepares favorite foods.
And when he sleeps, he dreams. When he sleeps, he falls and he flies, and wings stretch across the horizon, and the sky burns.
The sky burns and he bows, he rises, he stands a step behind his god, guarding his back and keeping him safe (My Hawk) and he will defend, he will protect, he will eradicate anyone who dares deny, who dares defy -
my god.
Yes, he says in his dreams. Yes, he gives in, he gives up, he surrenders and spreads wide, giving all he is and all he has.
Yes, my god. Yes. All for you.
He wakes trembling with need, with want, and it takes longer each time to remember what’s real and what’s not.
But he knows what it means. Bone-deep, he knows.
He’s in freefall. And when Loki comes - which they all know he will - he’ll fly away.
Clint watches his team. He watches SHIELD. He’s been to every continent (even that godforsaken frozen wasteland) and most countries, and he’s smarter than anyone he knows gives him credit for. He’s no Tony Stark, but Tony Stark is no him, either.
He wonders, sometimes, if any of the rest of Loki’s minions are dreaming of phoenixes, or if he’s just that special.
my god.
Yes.
My Hawk.
He knows better than that. He’s just that special, and he keeps his mouth shut even as his body shudders for his god, and he is so severely fucked. They all are.
What is it, a latent program? He’s a sleeper agent, now, waiting for the trigger to go off and kill everyone for real?
No, because he’s not sleeping. He’s fully awake, and he still keeps silent.
Every time, he dreams of falling and flying and what must be his god’s life. But why is Loki allowing it?
What could a primitive backwater rock like Earth offer to a god, except to break his brother’s shiny new toy?
My Hawk.
He’s in freefall, waiting for the phoenix’s wings to spread from horizon to horizon. He doesn’t need to know the endgame. He doesn’t care about the endgame. He is a weapon, no matter who has him in hand.
Strong, sure fingers. A gentle, beloved voice. Ancient ice and a sky on fire.
Waiting.
My Hawk.
Yes.
my god.
The answer was always going to be yes.