Avengers/Highlander DVD commentary For maldeluxx
Comments are in brackets.
Title: a taste of lightning [I do not remember where I got this title, but I really like it]
Fandom: Thor movieverse/Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: takes place post-movie and post-series; implied failure on the part of parents in raising of offspring (seriously, consider the canon); primordial!Methos; possibly confusing use of pronouns
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 500
Point of view: third
Prompt: Author's choice, any, he's born a liar and he'll die a liar.
Note: I chose the names for a reason, but I trusted internet sources since I have no knowledge of Old Norse at all. [In a lot of my fics, names are important. If they play a part in the plot, usually I did some sort of research. It’s fun.]
[I wanted this fic to be exactly 500 words. I do not remember why. There are sentences/words I cut to make it fit, paring it down to only the necessary.]
"Get up, child," he tells the boy lying spread on the ground.
The boy groans, then gasps. "I live," he murmurs, voice full of wonder.
"Yes," he says, leaning down to offer a hand. "It took a lot out of you, surviving that fall." He waits, unmoving, until the boy takes his hand, and then he carefully pulls the kid up. "But survive you did." [If Loki hadn’t landed (relatively) close to Methos’ location, there is every chance in the world that Methos wouldn’t have gone looking for or found him.]
The power will return in time, that much he knows. The kid isn't one of his; he's something else. Not older, though. Nothing is older. [As is revealed later, Methos isn’t quite correct about Loki not being one of his.]
Odin's stench is on him, nonetheless. That meddling fool. [Methos doesn’t usually feel strongly about people. They exist, they die. He can ignore them until they’re gone, and they can’t touch him, anyway. But Odin is different, for a variety of reasons that I didn’t figure out until a ways into the ‘verse.]
"Have you a name?" he asks the boy, steadying him on his feet. The kid's trembling, blinking far too much, and his eyes staying closed for longer each time.
"Of course," he slurs, slumping down. "Haven't you?" [Names are important to Loki; he is Odinson. Or was.]
He laughs. He has a thousand names, ten thousand, a million and more. [Names mean nothing to Methos. For the longest time, he had no name.] He presses a finger to the boy's temple, and another to his chest, right over his heart.
Lightning strikes, and catches, and the boy jolts in his grip, eyes flying open. [Loki had always been one of Methos’ kind, but it has been so long since Methos felt one that he didn’t recognize it for a while. But now, with Methos’ lightning in his veins, everyone who can will know.]
"Lesson the first, child," he says softly. "Survive." [That is the scene that popped into my head and spawned one of my favorite ‘verses.]
He sees the magic flowing through Odin's son, Laufey's son. Raised in shadow, cast aside for his bright brother - oh, yes. The potential here is staggering.
Odin has always been blind, misguided, with tendencies towards favoritism. [I don’t like Odin. I am perfectly fine with turning him into a one-note villain (well, except that I can’t really stand villains who are only villains without rhyme or reason). But in this ‘verse, Odin really thought he was doing the right thing. Over and over he made the worst choice possible - but he always thought it was right.]
"And lesson the second?" the boy asks, staring at him warily.
He smiles. "Grow stronger." He lets a moment pass in silence, as stormclouds gather on the horizon. "Call me Ash," he says. [*hee* In my fics, Methos always chooses some version of one of three names: Adam, Matthew, and Pierce. I’m sure I had a reason; now I just do it because I’ve been doing it. But here, there’s a reason - Ash is a version of the name of the first man in Norse myth.]
"My name is worthless," the child finally says, gazing at the dirt.
"Would you like a new one?" He gently lets go, stepping back. The boy sways in place for a heartbeat before finding his bearings again. [Methos has already decided to keep Loki. He doesn’t love him yet, but he will keep and protect him.]
The child's hands clench and his jaw tightens. "Will you take me home like a starving stray?" he demands, his returned magic giving him courage, and his pain turning into fury. He needs to lash out. "Will you use me until you grow tired, and then cast me aside, toss me off the bridge and watch me fall?" [For some reason, I always wish I had changed starving into starveling. I read it as starveling every time.]
"I'll take you home, yes," he says, standing still. "I'll guide you and guard you until you're ready, and then - well. There'll be many options, then. And I'll name you Van, if you like." [Van is a version of hope in Old Norse. I chose it because Methos is giving Loki more than a lifeline. He’s giving Loki an entirely new future.]
The boy pauses, clearly without a clue of what to do next. He's tired. His spirit is aching. He needs to rest, and heal. [What I wish, so very much, is that anyone would just pause and give canon!Loki time. There were so many chances to save him and nobody bothered.]
"Ash," he murmurs. "I like Van."
"Van you are," Ash says, reaching out again. The kid doesn't pull away. [Van is now Methos’ completely. They don’t love each other yet; hell, they barely know each other. But Methos will give Van time, space, and acceptance. He’ll give the boy every world in existence, and every moment in eternity.)
So Ash pulls him in, supports him, and leads him home.
Odin, you utter fool, he thinks, weaving the shield even tighter, so the All-Seeing cannot See. You never did understand self-fulfilling prophecies. [This is what I don’t understand about Norse mythology. You’ve got a prophecy that says a wolf and a snake will bring about the end of the world. So you… banish one and chain the other in a cave somewhere with a sword in his mouth. That is definitely the best way to avoid bringing about armageddon.]
Ah, well. He hasn't had a student since Byron; the Highlander never qualified. And Van may not be one of his by birth, but his lightning now sings in the boy's blood and that is more than enough. [And that was it. Until I got the next prompt that shouted, I’m the further adventures of Ash and Van!]
Title: There was no one near or far to keep the world from being mine [Ever since I read the poem this line comes from, I’ve wanted to use it for something. What better than Methos adopting Loki?]
Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sara Teasdale
Warnings: future!fic for Avengers and Highlander
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 690
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, white horses in the night [C’mon - for me, white horses always equals Death with a sword.]
"Come, little god," the stranger says, from atop the back of a tall horse. [That visual gets to me; I really like it.]
"Who are you, that I should let you take me?" Loki demands, trying to stifle his gasps. The All-Father had made it truly difficult to escape his cage, but escaped it Loki had. For the moment.
And now he is back on Midgard, the last place anyone would expect him to run. [“The closer we are to danger, the safer we are from harm.” *hee*]
"I know what hunts you," the stranger says, one hand holding the reins, the other petting the horse's neck. She dances in place, ears flicking between listening to the stranger and out at what might be coming. [I don’t remember when or why I decided that Methos’ horse is always a mare. For some reason, though, she is.] "And I know how to kill it."
Loki's mouth falls open. "That… what?" he asks, getting his feet under him and staggering up, trying to disguise how hard it is to stay there. [Loki has nothing left. He’s exhausted, he’s wounded, and he’s alone. His magic is almost entirely gone; he spent it escaping. He has nothing and no one. And he is totally terrified.]
The stranger tilts his head, giving Loki an unimpressed look. "Pride goeth, little god," he quotes from somewhere. It makes no sense to Loki, but he will only be on Midgard until his strength is fully returned, and then he's going to find a hole somewhere else, somewhere far away, and wait until - after.
Another horse steps out of the darkness. "Come, little god," the stranger repeats. [Methos calling Loki ‘little god’ - I find that adorable, for some reason. Even Odin and Frigga wouldn’t dream of doing it because I figure Asgard is pretty formal. But Methos - to him, every pantheon is full of children, and he doesn’t mean it in a mocking way, really.] "You're a masterful manipulator, I'll grant you that, but you need better allies, and actual friends, before you can get anywhere worth your talent." [Methos is the ultimate trickster, and the most powerful being in all the realms. He knows talent when he sees it, and when he’s not exhausted and wounded, Loki is brimming with potential.]
"I…" Loki is at a loss. He'd expected that anyone who recognized him would attempt capture or execution. But offering aid? No. Surely a trap.
Loki will never be trapped again. [Loki doesn’t trust easily, and everyone he did trust has betrayed him.]
"I thank you for your kindness," he grits out, pain stealing his renowned silver tongue, "but, please, take your leave."
"Yeah, no," the stranger says. "I know you for what you are, and I know what hunts you." His smile seems kind, and his eyes as all-seeing as Heimdallr's, but Loki will not be tricked, Loki will not be caught, he will survive and endure, and he will not -
"Oh, child," the stranger whispers, dismounting and catching Loki as he collapses. [Methos cares about very few things. This little trickster has sparked his compassion, which is bad for everyone else but wonderful for Loki.]
I know what you are, Loki hears, distantly, echoing around him, in him, through him. You are mine.
Who are you? Loki asks, all the fight gone out of him. In the stranger's embrace, he is warm. Sheltered. Maybe Frigga had held him like this, once, but it is long enough ago to be a faded dream.
The stranger laughs. "Your kind once called me Hel, ages and ages hence. I go by Ben now."
Hel. Goddess of those who died away from battle - goddess of the old and the young, of the cowards or accidents. Hel, a legend even to the aesir. And, apparently, not a goddess at all. [My headcanon for these ‘verses where Methos is the oldest being in existence - if a pantheon has a god/dess of death, it was Methos. *shrugs*]
What will you do with me? he mutters, sleep coming the easiest it has in decades.
I need a student, Ben says, standing, cradling Loki in his arms. Loki feels small, and young, and so much relief it floods him. You need a teacher, little chaos-maker.
And they are on the horse, though Loki knows not how. The horse, a magnificent creature, pale as Jötunheimr. They are on the mare, Loki with his back to Ben's chest, still bracketed by his arms. [Loki really needs someone to hold him. *sigh*]
"Rest," Ben murmurs into Loki's ear. "You've lived, Loki. Now you must grow stronger. And when what hunts you arrives… I will show you how to kill." [I really took that advice Methos gave Duncan and ran with it. Like, really.]
Loki surrenders to sleep. Either this is a perfectly woven trap - or Loki has been found by someone even more powerful than Odin, someone who (so far, at least) is on his side. And that…
Oh, that is something he so dearly wants.
You are safe with me, Ben promises, as Loki's nightmare changes to nonsense about Thor and a dress and the days when things were good. I take such good care of that which is mine. [Yes, Methos changed the dream.]
And the little god of trickery and lies, he is such a find. [I’m not sure this transition works, and I don’t fully like it. But I wanted Methos’ thoughts on Thanos, so.]
That which hunts the child seeks Death.
Ben clucks to his horse, and Loki's unused mount follows, and Ben's laugh echoes through the night, because it is Death the child's once-master will find.
He, however, will not be glad of it. [What I know about Thanos isn’t much, but there’s something about him courting Death… but Marvel’s Death is not Methos, at all.]
Title: just one part of some big plan
Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: very epic backstory I don't go into - but Methos is primordial. Like, older than every planet in existence primordial. Also, future!fic for both fandoms.
Pairings: Methos/Clint, Thor/Jane
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 785
Point of view: third
Prompt: Author's choice, Author's choice, "this dude just showed up to the party with a falcon"
[So, I wrote this story in my head where Clint Barton was actually a primordial construct Methos made during his creating things phase, and Methos had called him Falcon. Then I saw this prompt. *hands* What was I supposed to do, ignore it?]
It's not funny, not really, but Ben can't keep from smirking because he's the only one in the room (maybe even the world) to get the joke. [I figure Methos has a very dark sense of humor, you know? How else could you stay sane while living forever?]
Tony Stark's parties are always wild. That's just a rule, now. Gravity works, Doom's plans fail, and Stark throws the best parties.
(Gravity doesn't always work, actually, but Ben knows humanity is still too young to learn that lesson. Doom's plans do fail because for all his genius, he's a moron. And Stark? He wants the world to hate him just as much as it loves him, and he succeeds at that every day.) [Methos knows a great many things.]
"Dr. Piers!" Jane Foster says. "I wasn't sure you'd make it." She's grinning, arms wrapped around her boyfriend's gigantic arm, hanging off him. She has no alcohol tolerance at all, clearly. It's quite endearing.
"I've asked you to call me Ben," he laughs, with a quick glance at the boyfriend. [Of course Methos works at SHIELD. He keeps up with everything.]
Thor Odinson. Alien god-prince. Wielder of Mjölnir.
That hammer is still one of his greatest triumphs. He can hear its siren call from Thor's bedroom, where he assumes Jane made him leave it. Instead of answering, he raises his hand to his shoulder, stroking the bird there. [The thought of Methos making Mjölnir just tickles me. He also made Excalibur and Buffy’s scythe.]
Jane doesn't notice; Thor does. He eyes the bird warily. "I've yet to see one so well-trained on Midgard," he says. [Thor is not an idiot. He wields a magical weapon and he grew up with Loki. He may not be able to use magic, but he can recognize it when he sees it.]
Ben smirks, for just a moment, but Thor has eyes only for the bird. "I've had him since he was a fledgling," Ben tells him, and it's not a lie. "Don't worry, Mr. Odinson," Ben assures him, linking his hands behind his back. "He'll only attack if I order him, and this is a party, right? I'm just here for fun. I didn't want to go all the way home just to drop him off." [Thor doesn’t know what the bird is, just that it is very powerful, and a Midgardian scientist should not have it.]
Thor is still frowning, but Jane shouts, "I see Darcy! C'mon, Thor, I have to tell her about our breakthrough!" To Ben she says, "I didn't think you'd leave the office. I'm so glad you did!" She lets go of Thor to throw her arms around Ben and give him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Then she drags Thor off to speak with the delightful Ms. Lewis, and Ben watches them go, gaze on the Son of Odin and smile full of teeth. [Thor is a good boyfriend. He’s very willing to learn.]
Oh, poor little prince. He really has no idea. [Thor is not an idiot. He’s also quite young, and Odin didn’t teach him everything he should have known because both of them were so sure Loki would be ruling by his side.]
Ben slouches his way further into the party. A few of his colleagues greet him and chat for a little while, but they don't acknowledge the bird on his shoulder. Ben stays for almost an hour, never getting closer to any of the Avengers than he'd been to Thor. [No person without magic can see the bird.]
He leaves without saying goodbye and waits until he's ten blocks from Stark Tower before touching the bird and saying, "Alright, my raptor."
The bird lunges from his shoulder, snapping his wings and landing in a crouch, the Avengers' pet marksman again. He rises with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, asking, "Well?" [This is one of those times I wish I could draw.]
Ben laughs and grabs him, pulling him in for a kiss full of teeth and blood, and when he finally lets go, Clint licks his lips, still smirking. "It's not time yet," Ben says, swinging one arm across Clint's shoulders. "Soon, though. You'll know when." [In the story in my head, Clint is older than the earth, and there is a very long game in the works.]
Clint nods, tucking one of his hands into Ben's pocket as they continue walking. "Let me guess," he says. "When the kid comes back, even more broken and pissed off?" [Clint could have stopped Loki before the cube opened the door. Clint could, actually, kill Odin, he felt so inclined, or if Methos ordered him.]
Ben just laughs again. This has been the longest game he's played since - oh, since Heimdallr took over the gate. He doubts Odin even remembers him anymore. [Odin does.]
(Mjölnir is singing. Excalibur hums beneath the water. The cube cries for him.
And a mad god is plotting in a cell, every last grief and slight only leading him further into Methos' web.) [Yeah, Loki has a part to play, but he doesn’t know it yet. This isn’t one of the ‘verses where Methos adopts and loves Loki.]
"Come, Raptor," Methos whispers into his first creation's ear. "Let's go home. You've gotta get back to work tomorrow."
Raptor presses a brief kiss to the side of his head and settles into his grip, completely pliant as Methos leads the way to his current apartment.
As far as SHIELD and the Avengers know, Hawkeye is on assignment. [No one knows Clint Barton isn’t human.]
As far as SHIELD knows, Dr. Ben Piers is an astrophysicist, just another member of their army of lab coats.
It's not funny, really, the role Raptor has been playing for thirty-five years, ever since two little boys ran away to the circus. (Barney Barton is a ghost. He died on a job gone wrong, was buried in an unmarked grave. Barney Barton was an only child. Two people know that.)
It's not funny, really, that Raptor's called Hawkeye.
Okay, it's pretty funny, and Ben can't help grinning.
(Death isn't above vengeance, you know. And Odin may not remember… but Death does.)
[I have no idea what Odin did in this ‘verse, but it was very bad.]
Title: You drive an angel from your door
Fandom: Avengers/Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from William Blake
Warnings: post-Avengers; primordial!Methos; mentions of violence/gore
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 820
Point of view: third
Prompt: Avengers/Highlander, Odin + Methos, villains are those who oppose you
Note: Valföðr means father of the slain
[Dude, read the prompt. How could I not snatch that right up?]
"Hullo, Valföðr," the stranger says, slouched in Odin's throne. [I researched Odin’s other names for a different fic. When I saw Valföðr, I knew I had to use it for something. Also, picture Methos in Odin’s throne, smirking at him. Isn’t that epic?]
Nothing has been disturbed. No alarm has been raised. And yet there is a stranger in Odin's throne, and his fingers are splayed across Gungnir.
"Well met, stranger," Odin says, readying himself for whatever move he makes. "Who are you and how came you to be here?" [I really like writing dialogue for Odin. *shrugs*]
The stranger laughs. "You'd think language and culture would move with the times, Valföðr," the stranger sneers. "But you and yours are still stuck a thousand years ago. Explains the boy, at least." [Methos is older than any civilization living, and you will never know unless he wants you to. Methos adapts and evolves. It frustrates him that others don’t.]
Odin does not react, cannot. If this man is here for Loki... "Who are you?" Odin demands, every inch the king he has been since time immemorial. He is the All-Father, the most powerful warrior and sorcerer in nine realms.
(Lie, whispers a voice in the back of his mind. It sounds like Loki.) [Odin knows that given time, Loki will be more powerful than him. Odin also knows about Methos.]
"Who I am is of no consequence," the stranger snarls, lunging to his feet, fingers clenched around Gungnir. "What I can do is far more important, little king of petty children."
Odin's eyes widen. [And this is when he realizes that Methos is Methos.] "How dare you come here!" he thunders, flinging his most powerful, dangerous spell at the man's face.
It hits the man dead-center and he doesn't react at all. "You should know better," the man says, calm and cold. Odin shudders; he remembers this man, remembers blood soaking into the ground, remembers a command that reverberated in his bones.
"You stole a child and raised him to hate himself," the man says, stalking down the stairs towards Odin. "You denied him when he needed you most, lied to him in every memory he has of you, and did not search when he fell into the void." Gungnir flashes, power building, and Odin tries to prepare a shield, but he cannot do anything except listen. "You let your All-Seeing Gatekeeper withhold information, told your firstborn half-truths to stoke his betrayed and despairing rage, and threw the child you stole into a cage without even asking why he'd done anything." [Canon, every single part of that.]
Gungnir rests against Odin's heart and he looks into the stranger's eyes. "So tell me, little king," the stranger croons gently, a blood-curdling lullaby, "what should I do with you?"
[At this point, Methos is here because he had a vision a very long time ago. He knew that Loki would exist, and he knew exactly how powerful Loki could one day be, and he knew that if left to himself after everything, Loki would burn down the realms.
And Methos could kill Loki to erase the threat, but he collects strays.]
"I have done my best," Odin says, as strongly as he can. [The saddest part is that he believes it.]
The stranger laughs. Gungnir pulses and brilliant light flashes, and Odin screams -
He comes to on the floor of his throne room, Thor and his guards asking what has happened, if he's alright.
"Loki," Odin gasps, holding his chest. His heart aches. "Check on Loki, he came for Loki -"
Of course, Loki is gone. So is Gungnir, and Sleipnir, and so is Mjölnir, whenever Thor thinks to call it next. [I can’t remember if Sleipnir is Loki’s son in this ‘verse.]
"Father, what happened?" Thor asks, standing in Loki's empty cage.
Odin closes his eye, feeling so very old, and replies, "I made a grave error, Thor. And an enemy."
(Two enemies, little king, a voice whispers, as cold and dark as the void. Well done, Valföðr.) [Methos gave him the chance. Odin fucked up in every possible way of fucking up.]
"Will Loki… is Loki safe?" Thor asks hesitantly. "Is Midgardr?"
Odin flinches. Every accusation the stranger made… if Odin can rectify those that can be rectified… "We must speak to Heimdallr," Odin says. "Come, Thor." [Heimdallr held a grudge from Loki freezing him. Heimdallr saw Loki with Thanos, and didn’t tell Odin everything.]
.
When Odin was young, having just ascended his father's throne, he fought a foolish war. It is not in any song, or history, or story told in Asgardr. It exists only in Odin's memory; he is the oldest in Asgardr. No one else still living was there to witness how he fell to his knees before his enemy. How he pled for his life. How he swore anything in his power, if only he survived.
His enemy laughed, and sliced Odin's cheek with the sharpest blade in nine realms. His enemy let him live, with a single command: raise the child well, little king.
Odin did not know which child, or why, or when.
By the time he found an infant in a temple on Jotunheimr, he had long since forgotten.
.
"What is your greatest desire?" Adam asks Loki.
"Thanos," Loki answers. "Thanos with his guts spilling on the dirt. His heart in my hand. His eyes, staring unseeing at the stars."
Adam laughs. "He seeks Death, doesn't he?"
Loki nods. "Thanos hopes to woo Death with the charred remnants of a thousand worlds."
When Adam finally controls his laughter, he says, "Then let him meet Death, boyo. I assure you - he won't regret the meeting for long."
Loki smiles at him, madder than a hatter, and Adam wishes he'd acted sooner. [Adam’s favorite is the Cheshire Cat.]
But wishes are horses, and Death does ride, and their first stop is Thanos. [Loki holds grudges, too.]
Their last stop will be Asgardr, and Odin will be king of all those slain. [*hee*]
.
There was one command given, on a bloodied field.
There was one command ignored, in golden halls.
The greatest villain is the one created by the hero's hand.
On a thousand worlds, the greatest villain of all is Death.
Death's fine with that. [Death saw it all coming.]
Title: The world shall burn
Fandom: Avengers movieverse/Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton
Warnings: future!fic for Highlander; post-Avengers; primordial!Methos; very Loki friendly as he's my favorite
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 415
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, "Life is pain, [Highness]. Anyone who says differently is selling something." (Westley in The Princess Bride)
He finds the boy in a cage, bound by iron and magic, bound by masks and years of self-hatred. [Why is Methos looking? Curiosity. He was on earth during the invasion attempt and had grown bored with his current ID (not Adam Pierson), and bored with Immortals in general.]
There is fire left, yet, though, deep inside. Embers, barely sparking - but fire. The potential to scorch worlds, to raze realms to salt and ashes.
The start of Ragnarök, shackled like a common criminal and left to rot. [Death knows about the end of days for every pantheon.]
So very interesting. [Loki seems, to me anyway, to be the kind of person that will still be lashing out, even when there is nothing left. And I am unapologetically a Loki fangirl. *shrugs* The way he’s treated canonically is only going to leave him even deeper in the hole of villainy, even if he wanted to get better.]
.
He takes the boy, of course.
No one notices for months. [Throw him in a hole and leave him to rot. Going by the Thor 2 trailer I saw, that might actually be canon.]
.
Healing is not instantaneous. Physically, the boy is a wreck, skin and bone held together by sheer hatred and innate magic. The boy has so much potential. He must have been breathtaking before. With care and time, he can be breathtaking again. [Loki looked like shit at the beginning of the Avengers. That’s why I’m pretty sure he wasn’t working with/for Thanos willingly. Then he got the shit beat out of him by everyone else, dragged back to Asgard in what had to be magic-dampening handcuffs, and thrown in a hole to rot. Physically, he’s barely alive.]
Mentally, the boy is curled inside himself, hiding somewhere deep inside, where the fire pulses. If he is sane, he's clinging to it by his fingernails, through pure determination. [Seriously, the only way to survive is to hide where no one can reach.] But he has not peeked outside to see that his circumstances have changed, but that's fine. Time is plentiful.
Emotionally… well, the boy was fucked up before being shucked into that cage and forgotten. He has been broken for centuries. No problem. [Methos does his research, and subtext is where he thrives.]
.
The boy blinks and raises his head. He waits to see what the boy will say.
"You are not Asgardian," the boy rasps. He startles when his magic responds to his call, twining around him, prepared to defend and strike. [A starving man who can’t believe he’s stumbled into a feast.]
He lets the boy keep it for peace of mind and comfort. [Of course Methos could lock it out of Loki’s reach. But that would be the opposite of everything he wants.] "No, I'm not," he replies. "Do you know who you are?"
The boy nods. "I'm traitor," he answers. "Monster. Evil."
And, oh, but that burns. Burns like the heart of a mountain, deep and dark and hungry, for worlds, for lives, for the very fabric of being.
"No," he tells the boy. "You are not those things unless you wish to be." [Once upon a time, Methos had a body count that would populate planets. He knows about the long to redemption, and deciding whether or not there is anything to repent.]
"I…" The boy hesitates, glancing down at his hands, where the magic writhes, then to the sky. There are no walls or ceilings or doors here, unless willed into existence. No cages. "I am free," he whispers, and laughs, throwing his magic up and out, reaching for the horizon.
"Yes." He smiles, laughing as well, and holds out a hand. "I am Pietro," [a version of Pierce] he says. "And you are?"
The boy smiles, wide and enchanting, and he clasps Pietro's hand tightly. "I'm Free," he says.
.
There a thousand worlds to see. Asgard is but a stone in a river, forgotten - except for hate, deep in the fire.
Ragnarök still burns fiercely, but there is time.
There is always time.
[Aren’t self-fulfilling prophecies annoying?]
Title: a taste of lightning [I do not remember where I got this title, but I really like it]
Fandom: Thor movieverse/Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: takes place post-movie and post-series; implied failure on the part of parents in raising of offspring (seriously, consider the canon); primordial!Methos; possibly confusing use of pronouns
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 500
Point of view: third
Prompt: Author's choice, any, he's born a liar and he'll die a liar.
Note: I chose the names for a reason, but I trusted internet sources since I have no knowledge of Old Norse at all. [In a lot of my fics, names are important. If they play a part in the plot, usually I did some sort of research. It’s fun.]
[I wanted this fic to be exactly 500 words. I do not remember why. There are sentences/words I cut to make it fit, paring it down to only the necessary.]
"Get up, child," he tells the boy lying spread on the ground.
The boy groans, then gasps. "I live," he murmurs, voice full of wonder.
"Yes," he says, leaning down to offer a hand. "It took a lot out of you, surviving that fall." He waits, unmoving, until the boy takes his hand, and then he carefully pulls the kid up. "But survive you did." [If Loki hadn’t landed (relatively) close to Methos’ location, there is every chance in the world that Methos wouldn’t have gone looking for or found him.]
The power will return in time, that much he knows. The kid isn't one of his; he's something else. Not older, though. Nothing is older. [As is revealed later, Methos isn’t quite correct about Loki not being one of his.]
Odin's stench is on him, nonetheless. That meddling fool. [Methos doesn’t usually feel strongly about people. They exist, they die. He can ignore them until they’re gone, and they can’t touch him, anyway. But Odin is different, for a variety of reasons that I didn’t figure out until a ways into the ‘verse.]
"Have you a name?" he asks the boy, steadying him on his feet. The kid's trembling, blinking far too much, and his eyes staying closed for longer each time.
"Of course," he slurs, slumping down. "Haven't you?" [Names are important to Loki; he is Odinson. Or was.]
He laughs. He has a thousand names, ten thousand, a million and more. [Names mean nothing to Methos. For the longest time, he had no name.] He presses a finger to the boy's temple, and another to his chest, right over his heart.
Lightning strikes, and catches, and the boy jolts in his grip, eyes flying open. [Loki had always been one of Methos’ kind, but it has been so long since Methos felt one that he didn’t recognize it for a while. But now, with Methos’ lightning in his veins, everyone who can will know.]
"Lesson the first, child," he says softly. "Survive." [That is the scene that popped into my head and spawned one of my favorite ‘verses.]
He sees the magic flowing through Odin's son, Laufey's son. Raised in shadow, cast aside for his bright brother - oh, yes. The potential here is staggering.
Odin has always been blind, misguided, with tendencies towards favoritism. [I don’t like Odin. I am perfectly fine with turning him into a one-note villain (well, except that I can’t really stand villains who are only villains without rhyme or reason). But in this ‘verse, Odin really thought he was doing the right thing. Over and over he made the worst choice possible - but he always thought it was right.]
"And lesson the second?" the boy asks, staring at him warily.
He smiles. "Grow stronger." He lets a moment pass in silence, as stormclouds gather on the horizon. "Call me Ash," he says. [*hee* In my fics, Methos always chooses some version of one of three names: Adam, Matthew, and Pierce. I’m sure I had a reason; now I just do it because I’ve been doing it. But here, there’s a reason - Ash is a version of the name of the first man in Norse myth.]
"My name is worthless," the child finally says, gazing at the dirt.
"Would you like a new one?" He gently lets go, stepping back. The boy sways in place for a heartbeat before finding his bearings again. [Methos has already decided to keep Loki. He doesn’t love him yet, but he will keep and protect him.]
The child's hands clench and his jaw tightens. "Will you take me home like a starving stray?" he demands, his returned magic giving him courage, and his pain turning into fury. He needs to lash out. "Will you use me until you grow tired, and then cast me aside, toss me off the bridge and watch me fall?" [For some reason, I always wish I had changed starving into starveling. I read it as starveling every time.]
"I'll take you home, yes," he says, standing still. "I'll guide you and guard you until you're ready, and then - well. There'll be many options, then. And I'll name you Van, if you like." [Van is a version of hope in Old Norse. I chose it because Methos is giving Loki more than a lifeline. He’s giving Loki an entirely new future.]
The boy pauses, clearly without a clue of what to do next. He's tired. His spirit is aching. He needs to rest, and heal. [What I wish, so very much, is that anyone would just pause and give canon!Loki time. There were so many chances to save him and nobody bothered.]
"Ash," he murmurs. "I like Van."
"Van you are," Ash says, reaching out again. The kid doesn't pull away. [Van is now Methos’ completely. They don’t love each other yet; hell, they barely know each other. But Methos will give Van time, space, and acceptance. He’ll give the boy every world in existence, and every moment in eternity.)
So Ash pulls him in, supports him, and leads him home.
Odin, you utter fool, he thinks, weaving the shield even tighter, so the All-Seeing cannot See. You never did understand self-fulfilling prophecies. [This is what I don’t understand about Norse mythology. You’ve got a prophecy that says a wolf and a snake will bring about the end of the world. So you… banish one and chain the other in a cave somewhere with a sword in his mouth. That is definitely the best way to avoid bringing about armageddon.]
Ah, well. He hasn't had a student since Byron; the Highlander never qualified. And Van may not be one of his by birth, but his lightning now sings in the boy's blood and that is more than enough. [And that was it. Until I got the next prompt that shouted, I’m the further adventures of Ash and Van!]
Title: There was no one near or far to keep the world from being mine [Ever since I read the poem this line comes from, I’ve wanted to use it for something. What better than Methos adopting Loki?]
Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sara Teasdale
Warnings: future!fic for Avengers and Highlander
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 690
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, white horses in the night [C’mon - for me, white horses always equals Death with a sword.]
"Come, little god," the stranger says, from atop the back of a tall horse. [That visual gets to me; I really like it.]
"Who are you, that I should let you take me?" Loki demands, trying to stifle his gasps. The All-Father had made it truly difficult to escape his cage, but escaped it Loki had. For the moment.
And now he is back on Midgard, the last place anyone would expect him to run. [“The closer we are to danger, the safer we are from harm.” *hee*]
"I know what hunts you," the stranger says, one hand holding the reins, the other petting the horse's neck. She dances in place, ears flicking between listening to the stranger and out at what might be coming. [I don’t remember when or why I decided that Methos’ horse is always a mare. For some reason, though, she is.] "And I know how to kill it."
Loki's mouth falls open. "That… what?" he asks, getting his feet under him and staggering up, trying to disguise how hard it is to stay there. [Loki has nothing left. He’s exhausted, he’s wounded, and he’s alone. His magic is almost entirely gone; he spent it escaping. He has nothing and no one. And he is totally terrified.]
The stranger tilts his head, giving Loki an unimpressed look. "Pride goeth, little god," he quotes from somewhere. It makes no sense to Loki, but he will only be on Midgard until his strength is fully returned, and then he's going to find a hole somewhere else, somewhere far away, and wait until - after.
Another horse steps out of the darkness. "Come, little god," the stranger repeats. [Methos calling Loki ‘little god’ - I find that adorable, for some reason. Even Odin and Frigga wouldn’t dream of doing it because I figure Asgard is pretty formal. But Methos - to him, every pantheon is full of children, and he doesn’t mean it in a mocking way, really.] "You're a masterful manipulator, I'll grant you that, but you need better allies, and actual friends, before you can get anywhere worth your talent." [Methos is the ultimate trickster, and the most powerful being in all the realms. He knows talent when he sees it, and when he’s not exhausted and wounded, Loki is brimming with potential.]
"I…" Loki is at a loss. He'd expected that anyone who recognized him would attempt capture or execution. But offering aid? No. Surely a trap.
Loki will never be trapped again. [Loki doesn’t trust easily, and everyone he did trust has betrayed him.]
"I thank you for your kindness," he grits out, pain stealing his renowned silver tongue, "but, please, take your leave."
"Yeah, no," the stranger says. "I know you for what you are, and I know what hunts you." His smile seems kind, and his eyes as all-seeing as Heimdallr's, but Loki will not be tricked, Loki will not be caught, he will survive and endure, and he will not -
"Oh, child," the stranger whispers, dismounting and catching Loki as he collapses. [Methos cares about very few things. This little trickster has sparked his compassion, which is bad for everyone else but wonderful for Loki.]
I know what you are, Loki hears, distantly, echoing around him, in him, through him. You are mine.
Who are you? Loki asks, all the fight gone out of him. In the stranger's embrace, he is warm. Sheltered. Maybe Frigga had held him like this, once, but it is long enough ago to be a faded dream.
The stranger laughs. "Your kind once called me Hel, ages and ages hence. I go by Ben now."
Hel. Goddess of those who died away from battle - goddess of the old and the young, of the cowards or accidents. Hel, a legend even to the aesir. And, apparently, not a goddess at all. [My headcanon for these ‘verses where Methos is the oldest being in existence - if a pantheon has a god/dess of death, it was Methos. *shrugs*]
What will you do with me? he mutters, sleep coming the easiest it has in decades.
I need a student, Ben says, standing, cradling Loki in his arms. Loki feels small, and young, and so much relief it floods him. You need a teacher, little chaos-maker.
And they are on the horse, though Loki knows not how. The horse, a magnificent creature, pale as Jötunheimr. They are on the mare, Loki with his back to Ben's chest, still bracketed by his arms. [Loki really needs someone to hold him. *sigh*]
"Rest," Ben murmurs into Loki's ear. "You've lived, Loki. Now you must grow stronger. And when what hunts you arrives… I will show you how to kill." [I really took that advice Methos gave Duncan and ran with it. Like, really.]
Loki surrenders to sleep. Either this is a perfectly woven trap - or Loki has been found by someone even more powerful than Odin, someone who (so far, at least) is on his side. And that…
Oh, that is something he so dearly wants.
You are safe with me, Ben promises, as Loki's nightmare changes to nonsense about Thor and a dress and the days when things were good. I take such good care of that which is mine. [Yes, Methos changed the dream.]
And the little god of trickery and lies, he is such a find. [I’m not sure this transition works, and I don’t fully like it. But I wanted Methos’ thoughts on Thanos, so.]
That which hunts the child seeks Death.
Ben clucks to his horse, and Loki's unused mount follows, and Ben's laugh echoes through the night, because it is Death the child's once-master will find.
He, however, will not be glad of it. [What I know about Thanos isn’t much, but there’s something about him courting Death… but Marvel’s Death is not Methos, at all.]
Title: just one part of some big plan
Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: very epic backstory I don't go into - but Methos is primordial. Like, older than every planet in existence primordial. Also, future!fic for both fandoms.
Pairings: Methos/Clint, Thor/Jane
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 785
Point of view: third
Prompt: Author's choice, Author's choice, "this dude just showed up to the party with a falcon"
[So, I wrote this story in my head where Clint Barton was actually a primordial construct Methos made during his creating things phase, and Methos had called him Falcon. Then I saw this prompt. *hands* What was I supposed to do, ignore it?]
It's not funny, not really, but Ben can't keep from smirking because he's the only one in the room (maybe even the world) to get the joke. [I figure Methos has a very dark sense of humor, you know? How else could you stay sane while living forever?]
Tony Stark's parties are always wild. That's just a rule, now. Gravity works, Doom's plans fail, and Stark throws the best parties.
(Gravity doesn't always work, actually, but Ben knows humanity is still too young to learn that lesson. Doom's plans do fail because for all his genius, he's a moron. And Stark? He wants the world to hate him just as much as it loves him, and he succeeds at that every day.) [Methos knows a great many things.]
"Dr. Piers!" Jane Foster says. "I wasn't sure you'd make it." She's grinning, arms wrapped around her boyfriend's gigantic arm, hanging off him. She has no alcohol tolerance at all, clearly. It's quite endearing.
"I've asked you to call me Ben," he laughs, with a quick glance at the boyfriend. [Of course Methos works at SHIELD. He keeps up with everything.]
Thor Odinson. Alien god-prince. Wielder of Mjölnir.
That hammer is still one of his greatest triumphs. He can hear its siren call from Thor's bedroom, where he assumes Jane made him leave it. Instead of answering, he raises his hand to his shoulder, stroking the bird there. [The thought of Methos making Mjölnir just tickles me. He also made Excalibur and Buffy’s scythe.]
Jane doesn't notice; Thor does. He eyes the bird warily. "I've yet to see one so well-trained on Midgard," he says. [Thor is not an idiot. He wields a magical weapon and he grew up with Loki. He may not be able to use magic, but he can recognize it when he sees it.]
Ben smirks, for just a moment, but Thor has eyes only for the bird. "I've had him since he was a fledgling," Ben tells him, and it's not a lie. "Don't worry, Mr. Odinson," Ben assures him, linking his hands behind his back. "He'll only attack if I order him, and this is a party, right? I'm just here for fun. I didn't want to go all the way home just to drop him off." [Thor doesn’t know what the bird is, just that it is very powerful, and a Midgardian scientist should not have it.]
Thor is still frowning, but Jane shouts, "I see Darcy! C'mon, Thor, I have to tell her about our breakthrough!" To Ben she says, "I didn't think you'd leave the office. I'm so glad you did!" She lets go of Thor to throw her arms around Ben and give him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Then she drags Thor off to speak with the delightful Ms. Lewis, and Ben watches them go, gaze on the Son of Odin and smile full of teeth. [Thor is a good boyfriend. He’s very willing to learn.]
Oh, poor little prince. He really has no idea. [Thor is not an idiot. He’s also quite young, and Odin didn’t teach him everything he should have known because both of them were so sure Loki would be ruling by his side.]
Ben slouches his way further into the party. A few of his colleagues greet him and chat for a little while, but they don't acknowledge the bird on his shoulder. Ben stays for almost an hour, never getting closer to any of the Avengers than he'd been to Thor. [No person without magic can see the bird.]
He leaves without saying goodbye and waits until he's ten blocks from Stark Tower before touching the bird and saying, "Alright, my raptor."
The bird lunges from his shoulder, snapping his wings and landing in a crouch, the Avengers' pet marksman again. He rises with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, asking, "Well?" [This is one of those times I wish I could draw.]
Ben laughs and grabs him, pulling him in for a kiss full of teeth and blood, and when he finally lets go, Clint licks his lips, still smirking. "It's not time yet," Ben says, swinging one arm across Clint's shoulders. "Soon, though. You'll know when." [In the story in my head, Clint is older than the earth, and there is a very long game in the works.]
Clint nods, tucking one of his hands into Ben's pocket as they continue walking. "Let me guess," he says. "When the kid comes back, even more broken and pissed off?" [Clint could have stopped Loki before the cube opened the door. Clint could, actually, kill Odin, he felt so inclined, or if Methos ordered him.]
Ben just laughs again. This has been the longest game he's played since - oh, since Heimdallr took over the gate. He doubts Odin even remembers him anymore. [Odin does.]
(Mjölnir is singing. Excalibur hums beneath the water. The cube cries for him.
And a mad god is plotting in a cell, every last grief and slight only leading him further into Methos' web.) [Yeah, Loki has a part to play, but he doesn’t know it yet. This isn’t one of the ‘verses where Methos adopts and loves Loki.]
"Come, Raptor," Methos whispers into his first creation's ear. "Let's go home. You've gotta get back to work tomorrow."
Raptor presses a brief kiss to the side of his head and settles into his grip, completely pliant as Methos leads the way to his current apartment.
As far as SHIELD and the Avengers know, Hawkeye is on assignment. [No one knows Clint Barton isn’t human.]
As far as SHIELD knows, Dr. Ben Piers is an astrophysicist, just another member of their army of lab coats.
It's not funny, really, the role Raptor has been playing for thirty-five years, ever since two little boys ran away to the circus. (Barney Barton is a ghost. He died on a job gone wrong, was buried in an unmarked grave. Barney Barton was an only child. Two people know that.)
It's not funny, really, that Raptor's called Hawkeye.
Okay, it's pretty funny, and Ben can't help grinning.
(Death isn't above vengeance, you know. And Odin may not remember… but Death does.)
[I have no idea what Odin did in this ‘verse, but it was very bad.]
Title: You drive an angel from your door
Fandom: Avengers/Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from William Blake
Warnings: post-Avengers; primordial!Methos; mentions of violence/gore
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 820
Point of view: third
Prompt: Avengers/Highlander, Odin + Methos, villains are those who oppose you
Note: Valföðr means father of the slain
[Dude, read the prompt. How could I not snatch that right up?]
"Hullo, Valföðr," the stranger says, slouched in Odin's throne. [I researched Odin’s other names for a different fic. When I saw Valföðr, I knew I had to use it for something. Also, picture Methos in Odin’s throne, smirking at him. Isn’t that epic?]
Nothing has been disturbed. No alarm has been raised. And yet there is a stranger in Odin's throne, and his fingers are splayed across Gungnir.
"Well met, stranger," Odin says, readying himself for whatever move he makes. "Who are you and how came you to be here?" [I really like writing dialogue for Odin. *shrugs*]
The stranger laughs. "You'd think language and culture would move with the times, Valföðr," the stranger sneers. "But you and yours are still stuck a thousand years ago. Explains the boy, at least." [Methos is older than any civilization living, and you will never know unless he wants you to. Methos adapts and evolves. It frustrates him that others don’t.]
Odin does not react, cannot. If this man is here for Loki... "Who are you?" Odin demands, every inch the king he has been since time immemorial. He is the All-Father, the most powerful warrior and sorcerer in nine realms.
(Lie, whispers a voice in the back of his mind. It sounds like Loki.) [Odin knows that given time, Loki will be more powerful than him. Odin also knows about Methos.]
"Who I am is of no consequence," the stranger snarls, lunging to his feet, fingers clenched around Gungnir. "What I can do is far more important, little king of petty children."
Odin's eyes widen. [And this is when he realizes that Methos is Methos.] "How dare you come here!" he thunders, flinging his most powerful, dangerous spell at the man's face.
It hits the man dead-center and he doesn't react at all. "You should know better," the man says, calm and cold. Odin shudders; he remembers this man, remembers blood soaking into the ground, remembers a command that reverberated in his bones.
"You stole a child and raised him to hate himself," the man says, stalking down the stairs towards Odin. "You denied him when he needed you most, lied to him in every memory he has of you, and did not search when he fell into the void." Gungnir flashes, power building, and Odin tries to prepare a shield, but he cannot do anything except listen. "You let your All-Seeing Gatekeeper withhold information, told your firstborn half-truths to stoke his betrayed and despairing rage, and threw the child you stole into a cage without even asking why he'd done anything." [Canon, every single part of that.]
Gungnir rests against Odin's heart and he looks into the stranger's eyes. "So tell me, little king," the stranger croons gently, a blood-curdling lullaby, "what should I do with you?"
[At this point, Methos is here because he had a vision a very long time ago. He knew that Loki would exist, and he knew exactly how powerful Loki could one day be, and he knew that if left to himself after everything, Loki would burn down the realms.
And Methos could kill Loki to erase the threat, but he collects strays.]
"I have done my best," Odin says, as strongly as he can. [The saddest part is that he believes it.]
The stranger laughs. Gungnir pulses and brilliant light flashes, and Odin screams -
He comes to on the floor of his throne room, Thor and his guards asking what has happened, if he's alright.
"Loki," Odin gasps, holding his chest. His heart aches. "Check on Loki, he came for Loki -"
Of course, Loki is gone. So is Gungnir, and Sleipnir, and so is Mjölnir, whenever Thor thinks to call it next. [I can’t remember if Sleipnir is Loki’s son in this ‘verse.]
"Father, what happened?" Thor asks, standing in Loki's empty cage.
Odin closes his eye, feeling so very old, and replies, "I made a grave error, Thor. And an enemy."
(Two enemies, little king, a voice whispers, as cold and dark as the void. Well done, Valföðr.) [Methos gave him the chance. Odin fucked up in every possible way of fucking up.]
"Will Loki… is Loki safe?" Thor asks hesitantly. "Is Midgardr?"
Odin flinches. Every accusation the stranger made… if Odin can rectify those that can be rectified… "We must speak to Heimdallr," Odin says. "Come, Thor." [Heimdallr held a grudge from Loki freezing him. Heimdallr saw Loki with Thanos, and didn’t tell Odin everything.]
.
When Odin was young, having just ascended his father's throne, he fought a foolish war. It is not in any song, or history, or story told in Asgardr. It exists only in Odin's memory; he is the oldest in Asgardr. No one else still living was there to witness how he fell to his knees before his enemy. How he pled for his life. How he swore anything in his power, if only he survived.
His enemy laughed, and sliced Odin's cheek with the sharpest blade in nine realms. His enemy let him live, with a single command: raise the child well, little king.
Odin did not know which child, or why, or when.
By the time he found an infant in a temple on Jotunheimr, he had long since forgotten.
.
"What is your greatest desire?" Adam asks Loki.
"Thanos," Loki answers. "Thanos with his guts spilling on the dirt. His heart in my hand. His eyes, staring unseeing at the stars."
Adam laughs. "He seeks Death, doesn't he?"
Loki nods. "Thanos hopes to woo Death with the charred remnants of a thousand worlds."
When Adam finally controls his laughter, he says, "Then let him meet Death, boyo. I assure you - he won't regret the meeting for long."
Loki smiles at him, madder than a hatter, and Adam wishes he'd acted sooner. [Adam’s favorite is the Cheshire Cat.]
But wishes are horses, and Death does ride, and their first stop is Thanos. [Loki holds grudges, too.]
Their last stop will be Asgardr, and Odin will be king of all those slain. [*hee*]
.
There was one command given, on a bloodied field.
There was one command ignored, in golden halls.
The greatest villain is the one created by the hero's hand.
On a thousand worlds, the greatest villain of all is Death.
Death's fine with that. [Death saw it all coming.]
Title: The world shall burn
Fandom: Avengers movieverse/Highlander
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton
Warnings: future!fic for Highlander; post-Avengers; primordial!Methos; very Loki friendly as he's my favorite
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 415
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, "Life is pain, [Highness]. Anyone who says differently is selling something." (Westley in The Princess Bride)
He finds the boy in a cage, bound by iron and magic, bound by masks and years of self-hatred. [Why is Methos looking? Curiosity. He was on earth during the invasion attempt and had grown bored with his current ID (not Adam Pierson), and bored with Immortals in general.]
There is fire left, yet, though, deep inside. Embers, barely sparking - but fire. The potential to scorch worlds, to raze realms to salt and ashes.
The start of Ragnarök, shackled like a common criminal and left to rot. [Death knows about the end of days for every pantheon.]
So very interesting. [Loki seems, to me anyway, to be the kind of person that will still be lashing out, even when there is nothing left. And I am unapologetically a Loki fangirl. *shrugs* The way he’s treated canonically is only going to leave him even deeper in the hole of villainy, even if he wanted to get better.]
.
He takes the boy, of course.
No one notices for months. [Throw him in a hole and leave him to rot. Going by the Thor 2 trailer I saw, that might actually be canon.]
.
Healing is not instantaneous. Physically, the boy is a wreck, skin and bone held together by sheer hatred and innate magic. The boy has so much potential. He must have been breathtaking before. With care and time, he can be breathtaking again. [Loki looked like shit at the beginning of the Avengers. That’s why I’m pretty sure he wasn’t working with/for Thanos willingly. Then he got the shit beat out of him by everyone else, dragged back to Asgard in what had to be magic-dampening handcuffs, and thrown in a hole to rot. Physically, he’s barely alive.]
Mentally, the boy is curled inside himself, hiding somewhere deep inside, where the fire pulses. If he is sane, he's clinging to it by his fingernails, through pure determination. [Seriously, the only way to survive is to hide where no one can reach.] But he has not peeked outside to see that his circumstances have changed, but that's fine. Time is plentiful.
Emotionally… well, the boy was fucked up before being shucked into that cage and forgotten. He has been broken for centuries. No problem. [Methos does his research, and subtext is where he thrives.]
.
The boy blinks and raises his head. He waits to see what the boy will say.
"You are not Asgardian," the boy rasps. He startles when his magic responds to his call, twining around him, prepared to defend and strike. [A starving man who can’t believe he’s stumbled into a feast.]
He lets the boy keep it for peace of mind and comfort. [Of course Methos could lock it out of Loki’s reach. But that would be the opposite of everything he wants.] "No, I'm not," he replies. "Do you know who you are?"
The boy nods. "I'm traitor," he answers. "Monster. Evil."
And, oh, but that burns. Burns like the heart of a mountain, deep and dark and hungry, for worlds, for lives, for the very fabric of being.
"No," he tells the boy. "You are not those things unless you wish to be." [Once upon a time, Methos had a body count that would populate planets. He knows about the long to redemption, and deciding whether or not there is anything to repent.]
"I…" The boy hesitates, glancing down at his hands, where the magic writhes, then to the sky. There are no walls or ceilings or doors here, unless willed into existence. No cages. "I am free," he whispers, and laughs, throwing his magic up and out, reaching for the horizon.
"Yes." He smiles, laughing as well, and holds out a hand. "I am Pietro," [a version of Pierce] he says. "And you are?"
The boy smiles, wide and enchanting, and he clasps Pietro's hand tightly. "I'm Free," he says.
.
There a thousand worlds to see. Asgard is but a stone in a river, forgotten - except for hate, deep in the fire.
Ragnarök still burns fiercely, but there is time.
There is always time.
[Aren’t self-fulfilling prophecies annoying?]