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“Once upon a time there was a king that prided himself in the pursuit of science. He believed that his research was the answer for making his kingdom happy, but he lost sight of his goal in his obsession. His kingdom fell to ruin as he lost himself in nothing but his research, striking down all and any who would disagree with him, including his queen.
“The queen’s sister, a powerful witch, made a monster to strike down the king in her place and disappeared. The prince, who was set to take up the throne, also vanished, never to be seen again...”
Clint Barton snapped his book shut, tucking it into his belt as he continued to stalk forward. “Until a very handsome assassin was paid a fortune to find the royal brat and kill him before he could fuck up his kingdom again.” It was a simple mission with a lot more money than he would have offered to do this job, but he wasn't about to complain.
For a man that had been lost for almost five years, it only took a week for Clint to make an educated guess about where he was. For the last four years the monster that had supposedly killed the king inhabited in a deep cave on the far edges of town. If there was any clue as to where the prince was, it would be there.
As far as caves went, it was very simple. There were no traps or ground down walls, nothing that really showed that there were people inside that tried to make this place into a home. Yeah, it was a fucked up way to think, but Clint had scrambled into far too many witches’ liars to not be cautious. Honestly, it wasn’t until he has walking almost twenty minutes (how deep was this thing?) did he start to see anything that pointed to the fact that he wasn’t alone. Instead of anything that really looked human, however, it was wide claw gashes in the walls, large hand prints indented on the floor and random holes on the ceiling.
“Great...” Clint mumbled to himself, nocking his arrow into his bow as he continued to slowly stalk forward. He was grateful and wary of the lantern hanging off of his belt; it did keep him from being in pitch darkness, but it also showed whoever was in here that he was coming. Even so he tried to keep his steps light, not even the sound of swallow breathing reaching his ears. Then again, his ears had never been the greatest, something that his eyes more than made up for.
There were more marks the further Clint walked, not to mention just...an awful stench that filled the air. It was so bad that a few minutes in he had to pause to wrap his scarf around his nose. It didn't help it much, but any little bit away from that smell was good enough. Despite it, he continued forward, trying not to gag on the air too much as he stalked closer toward the smell. It could have been minutes, it could have been seconds, but soon he saw a shadow fleet across his vision. He raised his bow, his heartbeat racing as he drew back the string and pointed it directly at the Monster of legend.
The Monster was large; nearly twice as big as him with thick muscle and dark green skin. It's eyes, even in the dark, seemed to glow as it turned his rage onto the archer; baring its teeth and growling. Clint watched and waited, wanting the monster to take just one more step forward so that he would have a perfect shot right between its eyes. So he stood his ground, gaze unwavering as the Monster curled its lips back and roared. The sound was so loud that it vibrated around the room and shook the floor, almost making Clint lose his footing. Almost.
His eyes narrowed, chest heaving as his heart pounded in his chest, as his body tapped into his Fight instinct. He stood perfectly still, waiting for the beast to attack, to take that one step forward and let him end this and find that stupid prince.
Only it didn't step forward.
In fact, the beast just stared, expression slowly dropping into one of boredom. It huffed and then just fucking turned around and sat down. Clint floundered, but kept his position, bow trained right on the beast even as it lay down and started lounging. It was several minutes before he moved, arrow still trained right on the Monster as he slowly started to circle it, examining the small space that made up the end of the cave. The monster didn't seem to mind, hell, it even looked like it rolled it's eyes when he walked around to look at its face again. Still, even when he was right in front of it, it really didn't seem to care about him, even going as far as looking away and huffing as if he was a bother on it...which, yeah okay, Clint was technically crashing into its living space, but still. He looked everywhere, being careful not to take his eyes off of the Monster for too long as he felt and glanced around.
Nothing. There was nothing here other than the giant...thing lounging in most of the room. Not a damn prince in sight. He looked back at the Monster, wrinkling his noise at the horrible smell. It was coming from the damn thing there, but it wasn't as if he was doing anything other than assaulting his nose. Hell, even the people from the closest village said that the worst that came from the cave was perhaps just a roar or two every few months. It still scared them shitless, but that wasn't Clint's problem unless they paid him. If there was one thing he never did, it was kill for no reason.
So he circled back around the Monster until his back was towards the entrance, and just started to slink backwards. The Monster didn't follow, at least not for ten or so minutes that he kept watch, arrow still nocked and eyes focused as he slowly walked backwards. After that time, though, he turned around and started to walk away faster, still looking over his shoulder every so often to make sure there was nothing sneaking up on him. Maybe he was paranoid, or maybe it was just because the smell was so damn bad that it was sticking to the inside of his nose. Whatever it was, it kept his weapon out and his guard high until he reached the end of the tunnel.
It was only when he felt the sun on his face and did a quick sweep of his surroundings did he lower his guard. He sighed, pulling the scarf away from his face and taking in a deep breath. Even though he was far, far away from that Monster, he could still smell his horrible stench, making him choke halfway through his 'calming breath.'
God, the gold was looking less and less appealing the more he looked into his job. He scrunched up his nose, rubbing it along his sleeve before he rolled his shoulders and glanced behind by force of habit.
He immediately jumped backwards, nocking his bow and aiming it right at the Monster that had managed to sneak up right behind him. The adrenaline was back, the Fight back in, though like before Clint stood his ground, chest heaving as he waited for the damn thing to take a step forward.
Only it didn't.
It didn't even look at Clint, just looked bored as it glanced around, hand in front of its eyes to block out the sunlight. Now that they were out of the cave, Clint could see the dark green tinge of its flesh, its equally green eyes still seemingly glowing even in the light of day. It had horns, something that Clint definitely didn't notice before, tightly coiled on each side of his head, the very tips just sticking out from under his saggy, curly greasy locks of dark hair. It huffed, put its eyes down, and looked casually over at something in the distance. “Water.” It rumbled out, the one word coming out almost like a growl before it—
It talked.
It could talk.
That...changed a lot.
“Wait!” Clint was sure that somewhere it would say that he was an idiot for chasing after a Monster that clearly wanted nothing to do with him, but could probably also kill him with its pinky finger. The Monster was walking away, its large strides surprisingly light as it just...casually strolled to where ever it needed to go. Clint had to break into a light jog to keep up with it, but he managed. The thing could talk, and if the rumours were true and it really did kidnap his target all those years ago, then it was his best bet at finding out where the prince was.
He stayed a respectable distance away, enough so that if the monster suddenly had a change of heart and attacked him, he could know beforehand. “You always been living alone in that cave Big Guy? Ever see a guy...um...” It only occurred to him now that he had no idea what the heck the prince looked like. No one did outside of the fact that he shared his father's hair and his mother's eyes. Well...that's what the rumours said anyways. “...Dark hair and brown eyes?” Oh great, that about described most of the people that ever existed.
Not that it seemed to matter, because the Monster was still walking as if Clint didn't exist, which was pretty annoying. Clint wasn't sure what else he could say about the prince, really. Hell, he had lived in that damn kingdom, he had heard the news of the King's death and heard the stories before they had become legend, but he knew next to nothing about the prince. He never went out of the castle, never spent any of his time with his subjects, was never even seen on the training grounds with the royal knights. All in all, the prince was what all princes were like everywhere else; spoiled, rude, and far too entitled for their own good, or the good of their subjects.
It was only one of the reasons why Clint had jumped at the mission the way he had, not even sure he would have even thought twice if they warned him about the Monster. The Monster who was still ignoring him. It was a long walk/job to where ever it was heading, but Clint kept himself talking all the while, asking him questions, taunting him, hell, even throwing pebbles just to see if that would get a reaction. Nothing.
When they got to where they needed to be, which seemed to be a small clearing with a deep river, Clint finally stopped to take a breath. He moved much further away from the Monster first, putting his back to a tree and keeping his bow and arrow nocked. He watched the Monster carefully as it stepped into the river, sitting down and bringing the water level right over its waist. It huffed, and then started to scoop the water up and...oh. It was cleaning itself. Considering how it smelled, it was very long overdue.
“...Get out often?” He finally asked, watching all the dirt and grim—
and...slime?—slowly get carried away with the water. The Monster actually huffed at that, its shining green eyes turning to look straight at his own. The Fight didn't flare up, but he could feel it just beneath the surface. His hands tightened on the bow, already knowing exactly where to shoot to hit the thing in the eye if it stood to attack, but again, nothing happened. So he kept talking. “Not going to judge much. Monsters, witches, whatever other creatures, love the damn caves. Me? I stay on the ground. Lot of places people don't look, you know?”
The Monster didn't seem to know, but he looked away to wash his hair, so Clint kept talking. The best way, or at least the way he was the best at, to get people, things, to talk was to annoy them. Get under their skin until the inch got so bad that they scratched. It didn't seem to work for this thing though, not at all. If anything, it only made it look at him with that bored/annoyed look on its face.
“Arrow.” It said at one point, looking down at the arrow that Clint was going to shoot in its eye the second it got mad.
“...Yeah.” Clint said slowly, going silent as he waited for it to say something else. It never did. He stuck around for two more hours, trying, and very much failing, to get the Monster to talk. After that, he slinked off, letting it have its fun sitting in the cold water and scrubbing itself clean. This time, he made sure it didn't follow him.
Or so he thought.
He must have searched the whole kingdom over twice, asked for any word from his sources in the outside kingdoms, and checked every damn hole in the place back ally he could before he called the search off. Where ever this brat was he didn't want to be found, or he was dead. Which meant he couldn't get the rest of his money, which sucked, but there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't give up easy, but even he knew when to call it quits.
His employers did not.
Clint was all fine with getting yelled at, whatever. Someone needed to yell at him for something that wasn't his fault, whatever. However, that didn't mean he was going to be giving them back the advance he had gotten, or was doing any free labour for the assholes. As far as he was concerned, he was being hired to find and terminate, and paid in advance to look. So he looked, and got the same answer everyone else they hired got, the prince just fucking vanished.
His employers didn't like that. They didn't like that with clubs and maces.
There were a lot of ways that Clint had thought that he was going to die, to be honest. Out on a job was a big one, so was accidentally fucking a witch, or hell, assassinated by his ex-wife would have been an okay way to go. This, though, beaten to death by a bunch of guys who had no idea how to voice their complaints with words, yeah, that was lame.
Unfortunately, there were fifteen of them and only one of him, and even with eight of them out of commission, there were still enough guys to try and club past his protective bracers to get at his head. They were aiming to kill him, something that he didn't realize until after they had broken his leg, but by then it was too late.
It was then that he felt it, the roar that rattled through his broken bones and kicked in that Fight instinct. Only there was nothing to fight, all he could do was lie there and watch as the Monster he never thought he would see in broad daylight picked up the men that were beating him like they were twigs and snapped them in half just as easily.
“NO HURT ARROW!” It roared in its strained, grumbled voice, pinching a grown man's head between its fingers and crushing it like it was an overripe tomato. Clint could only blink, wide eyed and covered in more blood that wasn't his than was (for once) as he stared at this thing that had both landed him in this situation and saved him.
“Um...” Clint stared at this thing, all covered in the blood of its enemies, breathing hard as it calmed down from its apparent murder haze. It turned to look at him, its fists opening and closing as it calmed down, looking almost bored now that the fight was over. This thing could crush his head in-between his hand and yet somehow he felt no fear looking into this thing’s eyes. “...Name's Clint.”
And that was how Clint had gotten his infamous friendship with the Monster. (Well, not right then. It took a while for Clint to actually accept that there was no way that he was going to get rid of the thing, not even when he tried to shoot it in the leg—which bounced off, which meant that he would have very much died if it chose to attack him the first time they met—to try to get him to go away.)
On his own Clint was good enough at what he did to net him enough to get by and then but with the Monster on his side they had people begging for their services. Even though the Monster...Hulk, as he liked to call himself for some weird reason (Clint could never pinpoint where he had actually picked that up) never liked to do the actual assassin part unless it was in self-defence, his presence was usually enough to get any information out of anyone. In this line of work, that was basically half the job.
The only problem was that Clint really had no idea who the Hulk was. Usually when it came to monsters or witches or whatever, they either wouldn't stop talking about their back stories or other people would do the talking for them. Hulk was the monster that was created to kill the king, but that was all he knew. Maybe that was all he had but the more that Clint hung around the guy the more he started to think that there should be more. Especially on the one night that he got sick.
It didn't happen often, but unlike Hulk, Clint was only human, and getting sick was a part of that. Whatever, it was just a small cough and a runny nose. Gross and uncomfortable, but nothing that he's never worked through before.
“No.” Or at least that was until Hulk used one of his massive fingers to push him back into bed. They had been partners for quite some time now, and considering beforehand the brute called a dark cave 'home' Clint decided to just buy a place for the two of them out of town. The big guy never left him alone anymore anyways, so Clint had learned to deal with it. Usually they left each other to their respective areas. Usually.
“Hulk.” Clint pushed the finger away (or Hulk let his finger be pushed away, but details). He sniffled, wiped his nose on his sleeve and stood. “There's a lot of money on this job, you know all that food you shove in your face isn't going to—” He paused to sneeze, accidentally sneezing right on the Hulk. He made a face and wiped it off but didn't seem that faze him anymore than that. “—to buy itself.”
“Arrow sick.” Hulk grumbled, and Clint groaned. He only used that nickname when he was trying to prove a point. “Arrow sleep.”
“Hulk.” It was no use. The big guy was stubborn, and when he got an idea in his head, he didn't let it go for anything. Still, Clint was also stubborn, and he fought against that damn finger until he broke out into a coughing fit. He was pushed back down into the bed again, but dammit, he went down fighting. “It's an easy one, three hours tops! Dammit, I wanna test out my new bow—!”
It was then that Hulk did something that kicked Clint's dormant curiosity into overdrive. He pulled his finger away, leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Clint was so shocked that he could do nothing but blink and stay right where he was, even when Hulk blew out the candles and turned to leave the room. “Clint sleep.” And then he was gone, leaving Clint alone with only one question running through his head.
Who the hell is this guy?
Even so, it was a long while before he found the answer completely by accident. Something, Clint still had no idea what the hell had done it, managed to cut through Hulk's hard-as-rocks skin. Considering the guy had never been cut before, Hulk handled it pretty well, and by pretty well he roared and punched a tree over.
“It's not that bad.” Clint insisted after the guy had shoved it in front of his face as if to show off his battle scars. The thing was barely even bleeding, and already looked like it was healing, the lucky bastard. Still, Hulk kept shoving it in front of his face and grunting, something that just made Clint roll his eyes and look up at the giant. “What? You want me to kiss it better?”
When he was met with an expectant look, Clint blinked, wide eyed and very confused. “...You want me to kiss it better, okay.” Honestly, Clint had done weirder things in this life, but this was definitely in the top five. Still, he sucked it up, rolled his shoulders and pressed a kiss right over where the cut was. “There, now c'mon, we still have to collect...” There really wasn't much that made Clint forget about the money that he was owed after a job down well, but well, that was before this happened.
There, right before his eyes, the Hulk was...shrinking. “Hulk...? Big guy, what...?” Before he could even wrap his head around what the hell was happening Hulk was suddenly human sized, and flopping against him in a dead faint. Yeah okay, this moment was definitely in the top three of weirdness.
Really not knowing what to do Clint dragged uh, Hulk? Kid Hulk? Back to their home, shoving him in bed and throwing blankets on him when he started to shiver. The weird thing was that he looked like Hulk, only smaller and a lot less muscled and angry. With his facial features smoothed out it he almost looked peaceful, long black curls resting on top of his head, dark freckles scattered over his cheeks, horns still just pointing out from under his hair. He was skinny to all hell though, clothes so big on him that if Clint hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed this was once the Hulk.
He wasn't asleep for long, which was a good thing because Clint had more questions than he had answers, and soon his eyes were flattering open to look right at him. They were no longer a glowing green, but a normal looking deep dark brown. “Clint.” He was saying with a familiarity that really shouldn't have been there. He sat up, but tugged the blankets up to cover his bare chest self-consciously. The Hulk never seemed to care about the fact that he only had pants to cover him. “I...”
“Who are you?” Clint finally just blurted out, because really, this kid wasn't the Hulk.
The kid sighed, rubbing at his nose. “I'm Prince Robert Banner.” He grumbled, before quickly adding, “Call me Bruce. You were sent to kill me.”
It said it so matter of fact that Clint could only nod, narrowing his eyes at him as he thought about this. The legend said that a monster was created to kill the king, but it never said what it was created from. “Your aunt turned you into a monster to kill your father?” He finally said, getting a curt nod from the boy...Bruce, whatever. “That's pretty fucked up.”
It was very faint, but he was pretty sure that that made Bruce smile. “There was a catch.” He continued to explain drily, with that same bored look that the Hulk always wore. Unlike the Hulk, though, this kid just looked defeated, resigned to whatever fate he had to bear. “I could turn back...through true love's first kiss.”
Clint could only stare, his mind not quite latching onto the words that he had just heard. Mostly because they didn't make any sense. Before he could speak up and tell him that, however, Bruce was continuing on. “Hulk, he loves you. You were the first person who ever talked to him like he wasn't a monster.”
“Huh.” Was all that Clint could say, and he left the prince alone to try and process everything that had just happened.
That was how Clint temporary ended his infamous friendship with the Monster and met a prince.
If Clint was being completely honest with himself, the thought to kill Bruce crossed his mind more than once. Even if his employer from before was a complete ass, that didn't mean that he wasn't the only one that wanted the prince dead. Without the ruler around the citizens of the kingdom were free to slowly pick up the shambles of their kingdom and turn it into something worth while. There were a lot of people who would pay a lot of money to make sure the prince coming into power wouldn't fuck up their process.
The other part kind of just wanted to kill him to do the guy a favour. The kid always looked so miserable. He would either be outside gathering firewood and actually making himself useful or he would be inside the house, just...there. He would still be making himself useful, more than useful enough that Clint didn't want to get rid of him, but he would be just...existing. He always had that bored look on his face, never looking like he was enjoying anything that he was doing. Honestly, Clint had no idea what he was doing still hanging around, and so one day he just asked.
Bruce had smiled then, the first time he had ever seen that happen but it was so fake it was practically painted on, and answered. “Hulk wants to be here.” He paused for a moment, long enough for a million questions to plant itself in Clint's head, and then continued. “And the only home I have everyone wants to kill me.” He blinked for a second to long and let out a long breath. “I've seen what they started to build after my father was killed...” He started to fumble with the hem of his borrowed shirt, something that Clint had seen him do often but didn't know meant nerves until that moment. “If I took up the throne, it would all be for nothing.”
The prince, who was usual never ignored a question was he was asked, was silent for the rest of the day.
Without the Hulk Clint didn't get as much work, but he still got work. He would go out and do a job and then come back—sometimes hours, sometimes days—later and Bruce would be there. He would always have something for him to come back to, be it food or water, tea if he had gone out into the forest. He cooked a lot, and he was good at it. Sometimes he hummed when he doing it, and sometimes he hummed when he went out into the forest and mediated. If were in the forest together, Bruce would tell him the different types of herbs and mushrooms, and how to tell the difference between the ones that were edible and the ones that were poisonous. When Clint didn't listen, Bruce was there with cold water, gentle hands and a soothing voice that coaxed his fever into breaking.
Sometimes, when the light hit Bruce's eyes in the right way, Clint swore he could see that intelligence that he knew he housed behind them. When he got flustered, the freckles showed up against his pink skin even more. His eyes, like Clint's ears, were not very good, and sometimes when he couldn't see something, he would touch Clint's forearm and ask him about it. Bruce didn't touch him very often, but Clint liked it when he did. The man's hands were large and steady and soft, though they had started to harden with calluses each and every day. They always touched him so gently, so carefully, as if it was important not to break him.
By the time Clint realized that his heart beat faster every time Bruce touched him it was already too late. He had fallen in love with the cursed, caring prince.
The first time they kissed, long after they had first met, it was soft and careful, followed only by shy smiles and a bashful avoidance that only lasted moments. The second time they kissed Bruce had a sword through his body and a fake smile on his lips. “I'll see you soon.” He had whispered, which would have been terrible last words if not for the fact that his eyes shone green and he suddenly started to grow.
The Hulk, looking as green and angry as the day Clint had met him, pulled out the sword with a pained roar and killed the man that was attempting to collect the bounty on the prince's head. It was the first time in a long time that Clint has seen the Hulk, something that he seemed to recognize as well. As soon as the threat was gone, Hulk scooped Clint up in his arms and held him close, hugging him just a touch too tight.
“Hulk love Arrow.” He announced like it was fact. Clint could do nothing but grunt in agreement. “Hulk love Arrow just as much as puny Banner love Arrow.”
“Okay big guy.” Clint just patted his arm, wondered how this was his life, and then continued on with it anyways.
While the Hulk was back the jobs rolled in, and Clint had the option of picking and choosing again. It was nice, having the giant by his side again, working with a partner that he never really forgot how to be with. It was just like old times, just like when the Monster had followed him home and refused to leave. It was nice, it was fun...and Bruce wasn't there.
There was nothing waiting for him when he got home, no humming to fill it or smell of herbs floating around it. So soft touches or private smiles, no measured, patient voice answering unintelligent questions. He loved the Hulk as a partner and friend, but also loved, and missed, Bruce.
So on the day that Hulk shoved his hand in his face, Clint didn't hesitant. He kissed it, and not soon after his arms were filled with his prince, tired, but alive and well. He was no doctor, but he knew how to search for injuries, and Bruce didn't have any where the sword had ran through him, not even a scar. Changing into the Hulk must have saved him, a thought that really made him wonder if this 'curse' was really a bad thing.
As soon as Bruce flattered open his brown eyes, though, all those thoughts were unimportant. What mattered were their hands, their lips, and the relieved, happy laughter that rang through their home.
As far as fairy tale endings went, Clint knew that this one was terrible. The prince decided to never claim the home and the right that still wanted for him, the curse was never lifted, and the lover befriended the monster and fell in love with the man. It wasn't a good ending, but it was their happy ending, and in the end, that's all a fairy tale could hope to be.