![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Fandom: Thor
Rating: R
Genre: Angst/Drama
Pairing: Clint/Coulson
Warnings: Swearing, pseudo-bestiality, references to torture
Disclaimer: I do not own Thor and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Agent Phil Coulson is not all that he seems. He is much, much more than a government agent and he has every reason to fear the opening of the Bifrost.
AN: This is officially the longest oneshot I've ever written in the history of ever. It was written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
semiseverus on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
norsekink in response to an amazing prompt.
Part One Part Two
The machines go crazy at the base the next day. They beep and whirr as readings go off the charts, and the scientists in charge of them scurry about them like ants, taking notes and saving images, recording data for graphs and for other things that he doesn’t care about. What he cares about is that the Bifrost has activated again; that more Asgardians have come to Midgard and that these ones will not be lacking their powers.
But still, there is his audience to consider.
“What the hell was that?” he demands of the nearest scientist.
“I don’t know sir,” the man replies. He sounds excited. “We just got massive energy readings out of nowhere and then they just vanished. Fifteen miles north west of here.”
So he has a place to start. The cold weight of dread sinks back into his stomach. He ignores it. “Let’s go look,” he says.
In the car, he texts his siblings. Jormungandr first. Bifrost opened again. On route to site now. Orders?
Then Hela. Keep an eye on Thor. More company on the way.
He waits, jittery, for one of them to reply as the car speeds through the desert, following patterns in the dust that the car throws up. He wonders what his colleagues would say if he told them he saw magic in it – in the spiralling fleeting shapes so similar to the ones weaved by his mother so long ago. They’d probably say he should get checked out by psych. He keeps quiet and tries to stop his knee from bouncing.
Do not engage is the wisdom he gets from his brother.
His sister, as always, provides more entertainment. OMG flirtin makin me sick :( havin jane as an aunt wud b ttly weird. I can cockblock, rite? Pls?
He grimaces, tucks his phone back into his pocket. Sitwell glances over at him briefly.
“Is everything alright sir?”
“Just drive, Agent.”
It helps only slightly when the radio crackles to life with a report from agents stationed in the town centre, keeping an eye on things there.
“Base, we’ve got, uh, Xena, Jackie Chan, and Robin Hood.”
It helps because he knows who they are and where they are and that he won’t have to deal with them in person at the Bifrost site. They, like Thor, were at his imprisonment. They, unlike Thor, had openly distained him before that day, callously disregarding him as a dumb animal and a monster long before the Norns’ prophecy had given them a reason to believe it.
He gets a text from Hela not long after the radio alert.
Warriors3 n sif in da hood, bro. OMG the blond 1s flirtin wit me wtf!!! U beta get me my ipod stat. Fetch!
One day, he hopes, the dog jokes will get old.
…
The smell of magic is still thick in the air when he arrives at the Bifrost site. There isn’t so much as a breeze, and he’s glad of his current form for another reason – humans deal with heat so much better than wolves do.
He crouches at the edge of the circle burned into the dry earth, and traces his fingers over the edge of a spiralling rune. His fingers come away dusted with black from the ash. The Bifrost is a powerful, dangerous thing; that Asgard hasn’t found a reason to unleash its true force is a blessing. All they need now is to continue not to give them one.
He stands. “Get somebody from linguistics down here,” he calls.
He hasn’t backed off two feet when the skin on the back of his neck prickles as magic begins to crawl down his spine. The scent of it had been strong before; now it floods his senses, making it hard to breathe. He desperately wants to sneeze, but can’t inhale deeply enough to do so. He retreats faster, back to the car. Clouds are gathering and swirling above him. The Bifrost is opening once more.
How many times? Midgard has never inspired such interest in Asgard. What has changed?
He can only suspect that this is more fallout from Thor’s exile. His uncle, he knows now, will be the catalyst for the troubles they face. His phone beeps in his pocket. He ignores it in favour of ducking behind a car as a beam of magic crackles down from inside the swirling clouds and dusts explodes outwards from the point of impact.
His phone beeps again.
He straightens slowly, looking at what has come. It’s not an Aesir. Actually, he has no idea what it is. It’s man-shaped and made of rings of metal, and it reeks of fire. A weapon. Someone has sent a weapon to Midgard.
What is going on up there?
“Is that one of Stark’s?” Sitwell asks. It’s a good question, for someone with as few details as him. The only person they know who makes humanoid machinery on this sort of advanced scale is Stark – and Fenris would bet anything that Stark would love to get his hands on it. He would love to take it apart and tinker and then put it back together after having made it ten times more dangerous and given it a British accent.
“I don’t know,” he says. “That guy never tells me anything.” That last bit is true, at least, but he’s fairly sure that Miss Potts would have let him know if Stark had created something like this. She has a good knack for knowing when Stark goes too far.
He opens the back door of his car and pulls a megaphone from the seat, and steeling himself for pain, steps out in front of the machine. He doesn’t know what it is, but he knows that whatever it does will hurt but that he has to confront it. It’s the sort of thing that Phil Coulson should do. It helps to know that he’s the one with the best chance of surviving it, whatever it does. He raises the megaphone to his lips. “Stop. You are using unidentified weapons technology. Identify yourself.”
The machine turns its ‘face’ towards him. It’s not much of a face to speak of, with only eye-slits to show that there’s one there. As he watches, those slits slide back, along with the rest of the slim metal curves that make up the front of the head. It’s an elegant design – he doesn’t have to be Stark to appreciate that – but one that gives him a seriously bad feeling.
“Here we go,” he mutters. A bright light begins to glow within the figure’s hollow depths, seeping out of the cracks in its body. The smell of fire intensifies. He scrabbles back, instinctively looking for cover. He calls out “Agents!” and his men scatter around him, looking for the same.
The first beam of condensed heat slams into the car he hid behind, blasting it up of the ground. He crouches lower as it flips above his head, and hears the crunch of metal as it lands on the car behind it. He can’t smell blood. That’s good. No one is hurt, at least.
A second blast goes off, but in a different direction. He cracks his eyes open to watch it, surprised that he’d even closed them, and he can’t help but admire the spell-work that must have gone into it. The light isn’t fire, even though it smells like it. It’s almost like a laser, but he’s seen similar effects from spells that condense air. A combination of both, perhaps? He wonders if Mother had anything to do with its construction. Most likely not: it was too obviously a weapon.
Mother, he recalls, is all about subtle, twisting knives; tricks and shadows and wicked laughter. For all that this thing is a powerful creation of magic; it is not of his making.
Knowing that, however, isn’t going to stop it.
He and his agents are not its targets. It moves past them, shaking the ground with its every step. It moves quickly, but that is no surprise – he knows fine well how fast large things can move if they have to. It is heading towards the town, towards his sister.
Hela will be fine. She is queen amongst the dead, and he’s unsure that anything can actually kill her. All the same, she will kill him if he doesn’t warn her. He pulls out his phone.
Two messages from her are waiting for him. He ignores them at first, in favour of calling back to base and asking for a new car to be brought out. Getting to Puente Antiguo is his priority right now. When he opens his messages, they read:
Wats goin on? Bifrost openin. U beta not b ther!
Fen, u ok? Txt bk muttface
She’s not going to like what he has to tell her.
Unharmed he writes. Unknown Asgardian weapon tech heading your way. It’s after Thor. Get out of there.
…
He’s jittery as they drive into town. He’s had another text from Hela – Im fine. Thor gt hamma bk – but it hasn’t exactly filled him with confidence to know that his uncle is fully armed and in possession of his powers once more. He’s so on edge, in fact, that he opens the car door and gets out while it’s still moving.
Thor seems even taller now. His armour and his cloak are the same as he remembers from his childhood. Evidently, Asgardian fashion doesn’t change very quickly. Thor is gripping his hammer and seems to have regained all the confidence he had lost when Mjolnir had rejected him. He has to clamp down on the urge to growl and snarl at the sight of his uncle so empowered once more.
Hela is watching him. He swears that she knows what he’s thinking, because the tiniest of smiles quirks her lips.
“Excuse me!” he calls out, jogging over. “Donald.” He stopped in front of his uncle, staring up into his face. Donald was such a ridiculous name, so unfitting for him, that he couldn’t help bit find the whole thing a little bit funny despite his fear. “I don’t think you’ve been completely honest with me.”
Thor looked down at him, and with a completely straight face, he began to speak.
“Know this, Son of Coul, you and I we fight for the same cause. The protection of this world. From this day forth you can count me as your ally if you return the items you have taken from Jane.”
Never let it be said that Fenris Lokisson is not a brilliant actor. The effort it takes to stop from laughing in Thor’s face is remarkable. He can barely breathe from the effort. His ribs and stomach ache from trying to keep his composure and not dissolving into laughter. From the corner of his eye he sees Hela’s jaw drop. That Thor would ever, ever, state himself to be on their side is…unbelievable.
“Stolen,” Foster says.
“Borrowed,” he corrects her, somehow managing not to do so much as snigger as he does so. His uncle has gone to Foster’s side and wrapped an arm about her waist and Hela was right. If they became any more Hollywood romance it would be nauseating. “Of course you can have your equipment back. You’re going to need it to continue your research.”
Somehow, he manages to say it casually, as if the Council’s orders hadn’t driven him to panic the night before. This case has been an emotional rollercoaster. He can’t help but be glad that it’s almost over. There are only the debriefings to hold and report-writing left for him to do; then he can grab Clint and take him for so much ice-cream that they both get sick from it.
“Would you like to see the bridge we spoke of?” Thor speaks softly, his words directed towards Foster. He tries not to shudder.
“Uh, sure.”
He couldn’t have stopped them if he tried. In all honesty, he’s not sure that he even wants to. Having finally seen them interact with each other, he doesn’t want to prolong the moment. But that doesn’t stop him from calling out after them as Thor soars upwards, Jane Foster pinned close to his side with a strong arm.
“Wait! I need to debrief you!”
He hears Hela giggling as the dust settles around them once more.
…
He organises the dissembling of the base at the crater, and the return of Jane Foster’s equipment with the ruthless competence he has become infamous for. Everyone who works for him knows that they are expected to be the same way; many of them appreciate it. There is no sitting around or thumb-twiddling when Agent Coulson is in charge.
He briefly catches sight of Clint organising the removal of weaponry from the site, loading cases of guns into the back of a black van.
Before the computers had been shut down, they’d recorded the final use of the Bifrost and the retreat of Thor and his warrior companions from Midgard. The relief he feels is an astonishing thing. He finds himself standing straighter now that Thor is on a different planet once again. His confidence has started to return. With Thor gone, and none the wiser to the real location of his nephews and niece, he can resume his life without fear or worry of what might come.
He might, if he’s lucky, be able to sleep tonight.
Hey bro, u seein this?
Hela’s text is unexpected and immediately causes him to start worrying. Then Clint darts back into the building and approaches him. There’s an odd expression on his face and the worry gets stronger. His instincts are starting to scream at him, telling him that something is wrong.
“Sir? You’re going to want to see this.”
He follows Clint outside and, seeing the rest of his men looking up, follows their gazes into the sky. Above them, clouds are swirling alarmingly. Sparks of magic – almost like lightning, but not quite – flash and flicker outside the range of human vision. He’s never seen anything like this before and the earlier stirrings of concern solidify in his stomach once more, chilling him to the core.
He texts Hela back. Any ideas?
She replies only seconds later. Thor sed sumfin bout stoppin mom b4 he left.
Stopping Mother from doing what, exactly?
He doesn’t like this. He really doesn’t. He might never sleep easy again.
…
He sends a new iPod to Hela after he returns to New York. She got her old one back, of course, but this is a newer model and it matches the shiny, sleek iPad he bought her as well. She’s his little sister and she’s never usually so helpful, so he doesn’t mind spoiling her just this once.
The text she sends in reply – OMFG Fen, I luv u! :D – more than makes up for the brand new dent in his bank balance.
…
Two weeks after the mission in New Mexico, he dreams of Mother again.
Mother is unfastening his chains, stroking his fur and soothing him with low, muffled noises. His mouth has been sewn shut and the stitches tug at his skin, sending trails of blood streaming down his chin and neck. But his eyes glow with determination as he breaks Fenris loose. The last thing he takes away is the sword, and for the first time in years Fenris can stand again.
He wobbles on his paws. His head hits the roof of his cave, but there is no pain. There is only joy that he is free and pride that he has grown. His mother is smiling despite the pain it must cause him and it’s one of the saddest, most wonderful things he has ever seen.
He follows his mother into daylight and freedom and Midgard is beautiful. When he wakes up, his face is wet with tears and Clint is watching him with the oddest expression on his face. He pulls his lover down and distracts him from his questions with a kiss.
…
He watches over security cameras as Jormungandr shows Selvig the Tesseract. They’ve been keeping an eye on Selvig since he popped up on their radar during the Banner Incident, apparently – this is news to him – and the recent events in New Mexico have only confirmed to Jormungandr that they could find a use for Selvig’s brilliance. He wants to put him on the Tesseract Project – wants him to find a way to harness its energy and turn it into a renewable energy source for all of Midgard to share. It’s one way in which they can avert Ragnarok.
The Council has different plans. They want weapons created from its energy, especially now that they’ve read the New Mexico reports and discovered that they aren’t alone in the universe. Jormungandr - and Fenris has to agree with him on this – thinks that they’re idiots. Weapons that powerful will only bring trouble; bring pain.
But apparently they haven’t learned the lesson about nuclear deterrents not working yet.
Jormungandr wants to use the Tesseract to help save the planet rather than destroy it, and Fenris agrees with him about that too. But that’s not what he finds most interesting about it. Yes, it’s wonderful that it could provide Midgard with the sustainable energy that it so desperately needs, but all of his reverence for the object lies in how it came to be on Midgard in the first place.
“He took something of mine. He took you from me, my darling. You and your brothers and your sweet little sister. So I took something of his, and hid it where he will never find it; and now you are free, and he will never find you. My revenge is complete, my darling. My Fenris.”
Mother had told him that after freeing him and bringing him to Midgard, long ago. He had woven the words out of smoke that had hovered in the air between them, unable to actually speak them thanks to the stitches that crudely sealed his mouth. Fenris had believed him then, and believed him now: it wasn’t like Asgard to lose something by accident, especially something so preciously dangerous.
“Legend tells us one thing,” his brother says, drawing his attention back to the conversation he’s supposed to be watching. Selvig’s nervous laughter has died. Now he looks wary, as most people do around Jormungandr. Jormungandr has always found hiding his true nature more difficult than the rest of them and frightens people with ease, even when he doesn’t mean to. “History, another. Every now and then we find something that belongs to both.” He opens the special case that the Tesseract is kept in, bathing Selvig’s face in its pale light.
“What is it?” Selvig asks.
“Power, doctor,” Jormungandr replies, choosing – as always – the most concise explanation. “If we can figure out how to tap it. Maybe unlimited power.”
“Well, I guess that’s worth a look.”
Fenris frowns at the screen. There’s something…off about Selvig’s response. Jormungandr doesn’t seem to have noticed anything, but it’s always hard to tell with him, even in person. But something about Selvig’s words just isn’t sitting well with him.
Maybe he’s just being paranoid.
The memory of the sky boiling over New Mexico returns, and he swallows a lump in his throat; tries to shake off the sense of foreboding that has shrouded him ever since he left the desert behind.
His instincts are telling him that he probably isn’t.
They haven’t failed him yet.
Previous
Rating: R
Genre: Angst/Drama
Pairing: Clint/Coulson
Warnings: Swearing, pseudo-bestiality, references to torture
Disclaimer: I do not own Thor and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Agent Phil Coulson is not all that he seems. He is much, much more than a government agent and he has every reason to fear the opening of the Bifrost.
AN: This is officially the longest oneshot I've ever written in the history of ever. It was written for
semiseverus on norsekink in response to an amazing prompt.Part One Part Two
The machines go crazy at the base the next day. They beep and whirr as readings go off the charts, and the scientists in charge of them scurry about them like ants, taking notes and saving images, recording data for graphs and for other things that he doesn’t care about. What he cares about is that the Bifrost has activated again; that more Asgardians have come to Midgard and that these ones will not be lacking their powers.
But still, there is his audience to consider.
“What the hell was that?” he demands of the nearest scientist.
“I don’t know sir,” the man replies. He sounds excited. “We just got massive energy readings out of nowhere and then they just vanished. Fifteen miles north west of here.”
So he has a place to start. The cold weight of dread sinks back into his stomach. He ignores it. “Let’s go look,” he says.
In the car, he texts his siblings. Jormungandr first. Bifrost opened again. On route to site now. Orders?
Then Hela. Keep an eye on Thor. More company on the way.
He waits, jittery, for one of them to reply as the car speeds through the desert, following patterns in the dust that the car throws up. He wonders what his colleagues would say if he told them he saw magic in it – in the spiralling fleeting shapes so similar to the ones weaved by his mother so long ago. They’d probably say he should get checked out by psych. He keeps quiet and tries to stop his knee from bouncing.
Do not engage is the wisdom he gets from his brother.
His sister, as always, provides more entertainment. OMG flirtin makin me sick :( havin jane as an aunt wud b ttly weird. I can cockblock, rite? Pls?
He grimaces, tucks his phone back into his pocket. Sitwell glances over at him briefly.
“Is everything alright sir?”
“Just drive, Agent.”
It helps only slightly when the radio crackles to life with a report from agents stationed in the town centre, keeping an eye on things there.
“Base, we’ve got, uh, Xena, Jackie Chan, and Robin Hood.”
It helps because he knows who they are and where they are and that he won’t have to deal with them in person at the Bifrost site. They, like Thor, were at his imprisonment. They, unlike Thor, had openly distained him before that day, callously disregarding him as a dumb animal and a monster long before the Norns’ prophecy had given them a reason to believe it.
He gets a text from Hela not long after the radio alert.
Warriors3 n sif in da hood, bro. OMG the blond 1s flirtin wit me wtf!!! U beta get me my ipod stat. Fetch!
One day, he hopes, the dog jokes will get old.
…
The smell of magic is still thick in the air when he arrives at the Bifrost site. There isn’t so much as a breeze, and he’s glad of his current form for another reason – humans deal with heat so much better than wolves do.
He crouches at the edge of the circle burned into the dry earth, and traces his fingers over the edge of a spiralling rune. His fingers come away dusted with black from the ash. The Bifrost is a powerful, dangerous thing; that Asgard hasn’t found a reason to unleash its true force is a blessing. All they need now is to continue not to give them one.
He stands. “Get somebody from linguistics down here,” he calls.
He hasn’t backed off two feet when the skin on the back of his neck prickles as magic begins to crawl down his spine. The scent of it had been strong before; now it floods his senses, making it hard to breathe. He desperately wants to sneeze, but can’t inhale deeply enough to do so. He retreats faster, back to the car. Clouds are gathering and swirling above him. The Bifrost is opening once more.
How many times? Midgard has never inspired such interest in Asgard. What has changed?
He can only suspect that this is more fallout from Thor’s exile. His uncle, he knows now, will be the catalyst for the troubles they face. His phone beeps in his pocket. He ignores it in favour of ducking behind a car as a beam of magic crackles down from inside the swirling clouds and dusts explodes outwards from the point of impact.
His phone beeps again.
He straightens slowly, looking at what has come. It’s not an Aesir. Actually, he has no idea what it is. It’s man-shaped and made of rings of metal, and it reeks of fire. A weapon. Someone has sent a weapon to Midgard.
What is going on up there?
“Is that one of Stark’s?” Sitwell asks. It’s a good question, for someone with as few details as him. The only person they know who makes humanoid machinery on this sort of advanced scale is Stark – and Fenris would bet anything that Stark would love to get his hands on it. He would love to take it apart and tinker and then put it back together after having made it ten times more dangerous and given it a British accent.
“I don’t know,” he says. “That guy never tells me anything.” That last bit is true, at least, but he’s fairly sure that Miss Potts would have let him know if Stark had created something like this. She has a good knack for knowing when Stark goes too far.
He opens the back door of his car and pulls a megaphone from the seat, and steeling himself for pain, steps out in front of the machine. He doesn’t know what it is, but he knows that whatever it does will hurt but that he has to confront it. It’s the sort of thing that Phil Coulson should do. It helps to know that he’s the one with the best chance of surviving it, whatever it does. He raises the megaphone to his lips. “Stop. You are using unidentified weapons technology. Identify yourself.”
The machine turns its ‘face’ towards him. It’s not much of a face to speak of, with only eye-slits to show that there’s one there. As he watches, those slits slide back, along with the rest of the slim metal curves that make up the front of the head. It’s an elegant design – he doesn’t have to be Stark to appreciate that – but one that gives him a seriously bad feeling.
“Here we go,” he mutters. A bright light begins to glow within the figure’s hollow depths, seeping out of the cracks in its body. The smell of fire intensifies. He scrabbles back, instinctively looking for cover. He calls out “Agents!” and his men scatter around him, looking for the same.
The first beam of condensed heat slams into the car he hid behind, blasting it up of the ground. He crouches lower as it flips above his head, and hears the crunch of metal as it lands on the car behind it. He can’t smell blood. That’s good. No one is hurt, at least.
A second blast goes off, but in a different direction. He cracks his eyes open to watch it, surprised that he’d even closed them, and he can’t help but admire the spell-work that must have gone into it. The light isn’t fire, even though it smells like it. It’s almost like a laser, but he’s seen similar effects from spells that condense air. A combination of both, perhaps? He wonders if Mother had anything to do with its construction. Most likely not: it was too obviously a weapon.
Mother, he recalls, is all about subtle, twisting knives; tricks and shadows and wicked laughter. For all that this thing is a powerful creation of magic; it is not of his making.
Knowing that, however, isn’t going to stop it.
He and his agents are not its targets. It moves past them, shaking the ground with its every step. It moves quickly, but that is no surprise – he knows fine well how fast large things can move if they have to. It is heading towards the town, towards his sister.
Hela will be fine. She is queen amongst the dead, and he’s unsure that anything can actually kill her. All the same, she will kill him if he doesn’t warn her. He pulls out his phone.
Two messages from her are waiting for him. He ignores them at first, in favour of calling back to base and asking for a new car to be brought out. Getting to Puente Antiguo is his priority right now. When he opens his messages, they read:
Wats goin on? Bifrost openin. U beta not b ther!
Fen, u ok? Txt bk muttface
She’s not going to like what he has to tell her.
Unharmed he writes. Unknown Asgardian weapon tech heading your way. It’s after Thor. Get out of there.
…
He’s jittery as they drive into town. He’s had another text from Hela – Im fine. Thor gt hamma bk – but it hasn’t exactly filled him with confidence to know that his uncle is fully armed and in possession of his powers once more. He’s so on edge, in fact, that he opens the car door and gets out while it’s still moving.
Thor seems even taller now. His armour and his cloak are the same as he remembers from his childhood. Evidently, Asgardian fashion doesn’t change very quickly. Thor is gripping his hammer and seems to have regained all the confidence he had lost when Mjolnir had rejected him. He has to clamp down on the urge to growl and snarl at the sight of his uncle so empowered once more.
Hela is watching him. He swears that she knows what he’s thinking, because the tiniest of smiles quirks her lips.
“Excuse me!” he calls out, jogging over. “Donald.” He stopped in front of his uncle, staring up into his face. Donald was such a ridiculous name, so unfitting for him, that he couldn’t help bit find the whole thing a little bit funny despite his fear. “I don’t think you’ve been completely honest with me.”
Thor looked down at him, and with a completely straight face, he began to speak.
“Know this, Son of Coul, you and I we fight for the same cause. The protection of this world. From this day forth you can count me as your ally if you return the items you have taken from Jane.”
Never let it be said that Fenris Lokisson is not a brilliant actor. The effort it takes to stop from laughing in Thor’s face is remarkable. He can barely breathe from the effort. His ribs and stomach ache from trying to keep his composure and not dissolving into laughter. From the corner of his eye he sees Hela’s jaw drop. That Thor would ever, ever, state himself to be on their side is…unbelievable.
“Stolen,” Foster says.
“Borrowed,” he corrects her, somehow managing not to do so much as snigger as he does so. His uncle has gone to Foster’s side and wrapped an arm about her waist and Hela was right. If they became any more Hollywood romance it would be nauseating. “Of course you can have your equipment back. You’re going to need it to continue your research.”
Somehow, he manages to say it casually, as if the Council’s orders hadn’t driven him to panic the night before. This case has been an emotional rollercoaster. He can’t help but be glad that it’s almost over. There are only the debriefings to hold and report-writing left for him to do; then he can grab Clint and take him for so much ice-cream that they both get sick from it.
“Would you like to see the bridge we spoke of?” Thor speaks softly, his words directed towards Foster. He tries not to shudder.
“Uh, sure.”
He couldn’t have stopped them if he tried. In all honesty, he’s not sure that he even wants to. Having finally seen them interact with each other, he doesn’t want to prolong the moment. But that doesn’t stop him from calling out after them as Thor soars upwards, Jane Foster pinned close to his side with a strong arm.
“Wait! I need to debrief you!”
He hears Hela giggling as the dust settles around them once more.
…
He organises the dissembling of the base at the crater, and the return of Jane Foster’s equipment with the ruthless competence he has become infamous for. Everyone who works for him knows that they are expected to be the same way; many of them appreciate it. There is no sitting around or thumb-twiddling when Agent Coulson is in charge.
He briefly catches sight of Clint organising the removal of weaponry from the site, loading cases of guns into the back of a black van.
Before the computers had been shut down, they’d recorded the final use of the Bifrost and the retreat of Thor and his warrior companions from Midgard. The relief he feels is an astonishing thing. He finds himself standing straighter now that Thor is on a different planet once again. His confidence has started to return. With Thor gone, and none the wiser to the real location of his nephews and niece, he can resume his life without fear or worry of what might come.
He might, if he’s lucky, be able to sleep tonight.
Hey bro, u seein this?
Hela’s text is unexpected and immediately causes him to start worrying. Then Clint darts back into the building and approaches him. There’s an odd expression on his face and the worry gets stronger. His instincts are starting to scream at him, telling him that something is wrong.
“Sir? You’re going to want to see this.”
He follows Clint outside and, seeing the rest of his men looking up, follows their gazes into the sky. Above them, clouds are swirling alarmingly. Sparks of magic – almost like lightning, but not quite – flash and flicker outside the range of human vision. He’s never seen anything like this before and the earlier stirrings of concern solidify in his stomach once more, chilling him to the core.
He texts Hela back. Any ideas?
She replies only seconds later. Thor sed sumfin bout stoppin mom b4 he left.
Stopping Mother from doing what, exactly?
He doesn’t like this. He really doesn’t. He might never sleep easy again.
…
He sends a new iPod to Hela after he returns to New York. She got her old one back, of course, but this is a newer model and it matches the shiny, sleek iPad he bought her as well. She’s his little sister and she’s never usually so helpful, so he doesn’t mind spoiling her just this once.
The text she sends in reply – OMFG Fen, I luv u! :D – more than makes up for the brand new dent in his bank balance.
…
Two weeks after the mission in New Mexico, he dreams of Mother again.
Mother is unfastening his chains, stroking his fur and soothing him with low, muffled noises. His mouth has been sewn shut and the stitches tug at his skin, sending trails of blood streaming down his chin and neck. But his eyes glow with determination as he breaks Fenris loose. The last thing he takes away is the sword, and for the first time in years Fenris can stand again.
He wobbles on his paws. His head hits the roof of his cave, but there is no pain. There is only joy that he is free and pride that he has grown. His mother is smiling despite the pain it must cause him and it’s one of the saddest, most wonderful things he has ever seen.
He follows his mother into daylight and freedom and Midgard is beautiful. When he wakes up, his face is wet with tears and Clint is watching him with the oddest expression on his face. He pulls his lover down and distracts him from his questions with a kiss.
…
He watches over security cameras as Jormungandr shows Selvig the Tesseract. They’ve been keeping an eye on Selvig since he popped up on their radar during the Banner Incident, apparently – this is news to him – and the recent events in New Mexico have only confirmed to Jormungandr that they could find a use for Selvig’s brilliance. He wants to put him on the Tesseract Project – wants him to find a way to harness its energy and turn it into a renewable energy source for all of Midgard to share. It’s one way in which they can avert Ragnarok.
The Council has different plans. They want weapons created from its energy, especially now that they’ve read the New Mexico reports and discovered that they aren’t alone in the universe. Jormungandr - and Fenris has to agree with him on this – thinks that they’re idiots. Weapons that powerful will only bring trouble; bring pain.
But apparently they haven’t learned the lesson about nuclear deterrents not working yet.
Jormungandr wants to use the Tesseract to help save the planet rather than destroy it, and Fenris agrees with him about that too. But that’s not what he finds most interesting about it. Yes, it’s wonderful that it could provide Midgard with the sustainable energy that it so desperately needs, but all of his reverence for the object lies in how it came to be on Midgard in the first place.
“He took something of mine. He took you from me, my darling. You and your brothers and your sweet little sister. So I took something of his, and hid it where he will never find it; and now you are free, and he will never find you. My revenge is complete, my darling. My Fenris.”
Mother had told him that after freeing him and bringing him to Midgard, long ago. He had woven the words out of smoke that had hovered in the air between them, unable to actually speak them thanks to the stitches that crudely sealed his mouth. Fenris had believed him then, and believed him now: it wasn’t like Asgard to lose something by accident, especially something so preciously dangerous.
“Legend tells us one thing,” his brother says, drawing his attention back to the conversation he’s supposed to be watching. Selvig’s nervous laughter has died. Now he looks wary, as most people do around Jormungandr. Jormungandr has always found hiding his true nature more difficult than the rest of them and frightens people with ease, even when he doesn’t mean to. “History, another. Every now and then we find something that belongs to both.” He opens the special case that the Tesseract is kept in, bathing Selvig’s face in its pale light.
“What is it?” Selvig asks.
“Power, doctor,” Jormungandr replies, choosing – as always – the most concise explanation. “If we can figure out how to tap it. Maybe unlimited power.”
“Well, I guess that’s worth a look.”
Fenris frowns at the screen. There’s something…off about Selvig’s response. Jormungandr doesn’t seem to have noticed anything, but it’s always hard to tell with him, even in person. But something about Selvig’s words just isn’t sitting well with him.
Maybe he’s just being paranoid.
The memory of the sky boiling over New Mexico returns, and he swallows a lump in his throat; tries to shake off the sense of foreboding that has shrouded him ever since he left the desert behind.
His instincts are telling him that he probably isn’t.
They haven’t failed him yet.
Previous
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no subject
Date: 2012-06-27 03:10 pm (UTC)From:Again: WONDERFUL writing! =)
no subject
Date: 2012-06-28 04:39 am (UTC)From:Whether or not there's a sequel is up in the air at the moment. I would love to do the same for Avengers, but there's so many fics on my 'to write' list... You can, however, read this (http://hikarievandar.livejournal.com/tag/multichapter%3A%20chained) post!Avengers fic as being in the same 'verse as I was trying to link the two up.
OMG!!! There's MORE!!!!
Date: 2012-06-28 10:45 am (UTC)From:Re: OMG!!! There's MORE!!!!
Date: 2012-06-29 04:40 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2012-06-27 04:03 pm (UTC)From:This was a truly wonderful fill! I admit I'd love to see a sequel either during or post-Avengers (mostly because I am firmly in the Coulson Lives camp and I want to know if Loki recognized his children at all), but ultimately that's up to you, and this stands alone so well that it just makes me squee. *bookmarks* Thank you for writing and posting this lovely fic!
no subject
Date: 2012-06-28 04:47 am (UTC)From:It was an amazing prompt to start with. The bit about Fury's eyepatch came from
not sosecret adoration for Mama!Loki.This fic (http://hikarievandar.livejournal.com/tag/multichapter%3A%20chained) can be read as a post!Avengers sequel, even though I started writing it first and the prompts came from different people. I tried to link the two up while writing, so they're technically in the same 'verse now. There might be a during!Avengers sequel or some drabble extras written at some point as well.
no subject
Date: 2012-06-27 05:10 pm (UTC)From:Thank you so much once again. I completely adore this fic and it's going in my kindle to read over and over again. ♥
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Date: 2012-06-28 05:12 am (UTC)From:I may try expanding this later and maybe doing Avengers as well. Your idea for sibling!fluff while watching the "STEROIDS!" scene is glorious, and Hela!Darcy would totally download the soundbyte later and use it as Thor's personal ringtone. XD
Thank you for such a brilliant prompt. It was a genuine pleasure to fill it. I'm
grinning like a maniacreally happy that you like the result.no subject
Date: 2012-06-30 08:29 pm (UTC)From:Now I'm off to read the cracky sequel! :D
no subject
Date: 2012-06-28 02:42 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2012-06-28 04:47 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2012-06-28 08:38 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2012-06-28 09:11 am (UTC)From:You can read this fic (http://hikarievandar.livejournal.com/tag/multichapter%3A%20chained) as being in the same verse, post!Avengers. There will probably be more set between movies and during Avengers because I think I'm addicted to this 'verse too!
no subject
Date: 2012-06-28 08:47 am (UTC)From:Love the way you maintained the siblings' characterizations without degrading the human side of their characters/personas, and also love the way you incorporated Fenrir's internal story into Coulson's actions during the Thor movie.
The entire story was so bittersweet, and yet ended on such a suspenseful note, too. I hope you continue this fic/series in some manner.
Overall, excellent story. :)
no subject
Date: 2012-06-28 09:19 am (UTC)From:I rewatched Thor while writing this, and I kept pausing and skipping back to see/hear what Coulson was doing and trying to figure out a way to link his actions in with what Fenris!Coulson would be thinking while remaining in character. I'm really happy that it turned out so well. :D
This fic (http://hikarievandar.livejournal.com/tag/multichapter%3A%20chained) can be read in the same 'verse as 'Wolf', but there probably will be others later on to bridge the gap that is Avengers.
no subject
Date: 2012-06-29 01:34 am (UTC)From:Still, I thought I'll read this fill of the prompt.
It was a good, very good decision.
Coulson here is so very calculating, cold, and you can literally *feel* his desire to rip his own uncle apart. But he's planning, knows that he would risk everything and waits. Patiently.
This Coulson IS Fenris and he IS dangerous. And Thor is so very naive, and doesn't see that there isn't a harmless mortal standing in front of him, but a very big vicious wolf that has never forgiven him. And probably never will forgive him. The first second it wouldn't have consequences Fenris would kill Thor.
It's great how Fenris still thinks about his mother, who loves them all, who tried to protect them, avenged them (at least a litte bit) and gave them a chance to live free on Midgard. How Frenris loves his siblings, the only two beings he can completely trust on Midgard. It's a lonely, fearful life they lead. And it's sad that they can never talk to their mother, because the risk is to high.
But the very, very best part was the description of what might happen when Odin finds them and comes to bind them again. Earth as "collateral damage". Nothing more. It's a chilling thought, because Fenris isn't joking.
Did I mention that I love Clint? And how competent he's here?
I would love to read a sequel with the Avengers, and maybe we'll see what happened with Loki. Because I'm firmly believe that something happened between Thor and Avengers.
A wonderful story. :)
~silber
no subject
Date: 2012-06-29 04:15 am (UTC)From:When I first found
I don't do crack very well, I think. The more serious prompts I found, though, were things I couldn't ignore.
There were parts in the prompt that made me really think hard about Thor's treatment of his nephews. Going with the war-hungry personality he has at the beginning of the film, and the theory that Loki's children were only monsters and therefore didn't matter, it made sense to me that he would at least try going after one of them. (Jormungandr, in this case.) It also made sense - from personal experience - that Loki's children would hold serious grudges because of that. But because they're Loki's children, they're smart enough to know when to hold back, and not put themselves at risk.
Earth being collateral damage just makes sense to me. Even if they were careful, they could do a hell of a lot of damage unintentionally just because of how big they are. Getting in a fight? Goodbye existence.
I have a thing for Mama!Loki. I have no knowledge of the comics whatsoever, so all of my characterisation comes from the films, but movie!Loki strikes me as someone who would be an awesome parent. He knows how horrible favouritism is, and what it feels like to be ignored by his parents, so I think that if he had kids then he'd do anything to make sure they knew they were loved and to make them happy. In this case, the only thing he really can do is make sure that they're free to live the way that they want to - and to avenge them in the only way he can, without drawing too much attention to it.
I love Clint too. <3 I'm glad he came across well.
There will be an Avengers sequel. I honestly don't think I can resist the temptation to write it. At the moment I'm working on the post!Avengers sequel and a between-movies sibling!ficlet that's conisderably more fluffy than the others, but it will exist. One day. And Jormungandr will be terrifying.
Thanks again for review. I am really glad you enjoyed the fic so much. <3
no subject
Date: 2012-06-29 02:37 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2012-06-29 03:51 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2012-06-29 08:59 pm (UTC)From:Absolutely amazing.
no subject
Date: 2012-06-30 01:09 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2012-07-01 10:53 pm (UTC)From:Darcy just no giving a fuck about grammar or spelling in her texts was wonderful and in-character. And I love you for all the dog jokes.
You deserve awards for writing this.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-02 03:59 am (UTC)From:I already had an idea of what Fenris would be like, and then I watched the movie again and tried to connect that to Coulson's character. They were pretty different at first, but I liked the way that they came together in the end. I'm really happy that it worked out.
Text speak is hard!
I never use it RL.But you're right. I couln't imagine her using proper spelling or grammar in text messages at all. It just wasn't Darcy.The dog jokes came from what I'm like with my older brothers. Obviously, they aren't giant wolves, but the principle of 'annoying little sister' is one that I can relate to. XD
<3