7.

. . .

The secure SHIELD text and mail app sat at the bottom of the phone display's dock. In the upper right corner of the icon was a number. It read 117.

117 unread messages.

The number mocked Loki. He couldn't stab a number. It would be unwise to stab the phone, if deeply satisfying. For a single second, so real he could almost feel the perfumed breeze of this alternate moment in time, he watched himself fling the damn thing out the window of the carriage taking him and his brother to the edge of a nearby Elvish town. It sailed forward, over the heads of the silently racing winged cats, long-furred and lovely in twining golden bridles, and over the glinting ridge into one of the cool springs below.

He blinked and the phone still sat in his clenching hand, its bright display judging him relentlessly.

119 unread messages.

"Fuck," he said under his breath, and he got to speed-reading to be sure he wasn't missing anything important.

. . .

"It's positively Sisyphean," complained Loki as he unfurled himself from the carriage, never looking away from the phone in his hand. "Every time I finish reading a message, several more pop in. Thank gods we haven't set up a Slack server yet, I think that might be the thing to finally end me."

"I know what most of those words mean," said Thor, bemused.

Loki looked up at that, seeing Thor squint against the evening sun. "I assume you want to get a meal first."

"Wouldn't mind. When do you need to get back to Earth?"

"I just have to check into the server by their midnight. There's an out of time zone videocall I need to be in on despite it being a complete waste of time - it's idiotic, it's a bunch of pointless whinging about security patrols, for gods' sake, scheduled for halls that are still being finished so none of it even matters yet - and then I need a nap, but at least I don't have to go back for any of it. Just stick me in a moderately secure inn room and ignore the screams until I pass out or figure out how to remote-kill about fifteen people."

"You're exaggerating."

"Course I am." Loki arched an eyebrow. "Not about the screaming bit, though. The mute button is ruddy invaluable. I'll try to harden the room, too. Don't want to bother the other guests."

"Right." Thor turned to gesture at the compact, rather homey looking town. Compared to the city's crystalline vibrancy, this place stayed on the edge of an untouched wood. Vines created organic landscapes along stone walls and hutches, with firmer structures apparently grown out of the trees themselves. It seemed rather sparse, and doubt crept into his voice. "Do you know anything about this place?"

"Verdurois. One of the older towns. It's much more than you think. Look up. Not towards the horizon, but here."

Thor turned his head towards where Loki gestured, wrinkling his nose at the sprawling foliage and the interlocking canopies where leaves grew thick as moss and were broken only by the twinkling light of the sky peeking through. He saw nothing else at first, glanced at Loki, then looked again.

Like a puzzle painting, it abruptly snapped together for him this time. The twinkling lights were not the sky, but rainbow glimmers within windows grown into the tall trees. The foliage hid more rooftops, if not were part of the roofs themselves, and a moment later the soft rustling sounds of the leaves became the quiet night noises of a town at peace. Songbirds flittered along the staircases, and nests nestled on the rungs of ladders that at first brush seemed more ornamental than useful. "…That's beautiful." His voice was soft.

"Rather is. As I say, didn't care for the capital much. The towns are far nicer. I'm not familiar with this one, but I think that's a pub over there on the right. In the broad elm."

"As part of the tree trunk itself." Thor blinked, still surprised. "Not one of the ones on the ground."

"No, anyplace on the ground is going to be for punters and tourists with a fear of heights. If you want anything decent 'round the old woods, you go up." Loki shrugged. "I expect this other archive is probably back in the dense copse, too, sloping towards the ancient growth. And if luck holds, it'll be run by the sane and sensible sorts. Not as much bureaucracy, maybe even a modern filing system. Easy stuff, if dull."

"And what do you expect to find there?"

"As I said to the girl. Diplomatic records and proclamations. Look for the documents surrounding your birth, up to a year before. There will have been celebrations, moots, discussions about the young prince and heir the moment the realms knew one was about to land. We look at those. Look for the birth announcements. Find out who's still around that might have been there in Asgard - which factors, which ambassadors. Chase them down and see if we can't crack your coding system. Or maybe even get some outright answers."

Thor looked at his brother with an old, familiar admiration. "Loki, that's perfect."

Loki grinned back at him, a smile that seemed to come forward through time from those years when they both were young. "I know."

. . .

Of all the things Thor had been surprised by in his life, the sight of a small, spritely waiter clad in a fine teal tunic that looked handwoven and hand embroidered, trotting up to them with a nano-graphene digiscroll curled in his hand was getting right up there on the list. Many of the realms had learned to traffic with the wider universe over the years, Nidavellir of note diversifying their booze and metals portfolio into the delicate politics of being a very upscale galactic arms dealer - underwritten by Asgard, of course. But the woodland elves had always seemed more… withdrawn to him on paper than even the light elves of the city.

Loki caught his look after the man left with their order. "Rural elves honor the ancient ways by paradoxically modernizing when useful, because they got the idea a couple hundred years back that the efficiency and waste reduction was actually helping them prioritize the local ecology."

Thor tried to square that with the city they'd just left. "So what's with the capita-"

"Aesthetics." The word came with a sneer. "Did you really ignore the whole section on Elf politics when we were children?"

"On the scale of interest in the Nine, Loki, I confess that where you once had Midgard sitting right on the bum of it, I had Alfheim. If it was outside the basic overviews and it didn't involve people I had to bow to later, I may have glazed over somewhat." Thor shrugged, looking apologetic. "My mistake."

"Fair." Loki watched another three messages roll onto the screen of his phone and winced a little. "I slept through the course on early human evolution and it's honestly bizarre how often that comes up. Particularly since I also missed a related Kree seminar or two and now I'm nearly as confused by the newly hybridized Inhumans as anyone at work. Goes to show you."

"Do they export anything here?"

"Biological materials, mostly. Lots of desired but sustainable medical components come from the forests around here. I… think there's a sap that gets barreled for those easy-repair ship kits. Artisanal wood for galactic hipsters." Loki leaned back as the waiter returned with the plate of food. "Ah."

Thor studied the tray when the waiter was gone. A small but lovely assortment of cheeses, a handful of artfully arrayed pieces of meat, a tiny bowl of vegetables, and a side plate of thinly baked breads. "Loki." He made sure to sound worried.

"What?"

"You should have told us."

"Told you what?" Loki stared at him, confused.

"That the Elves were starving you when you studied here." Thor grinned, having gotten away with what he thought was a pretty decent joke.

"Oh, gods." Loki picked a pickled stonefruit out of the bowl and chucked it at him, ignoring the look he got from an individual swathed in silky, webby veils seated in a nearby corner. "Uh oh, I'm offending that orbweaver aes sidhe."

"The whowhat?" Thor craned around the edge of their booth.

"Don't stare, it's rude, and my ankle is already itching in anticipation." Loki loaded a cracker-like triangle of bread with a carefully chosen selection from the tray. "She'll put spiders on you if she feels like it."

Thor whipped back around in his seat and began to silently eat with the same well-trained royal delicacy. Snakes, he loved the slinky buggers. Spiders were not his pals, however. Spiders were cagey, hungry little bastards that liked dark places - places like his boots - and were not to be trusted.

The rest of the meal was, as far as the Odinson family reckoned such things, bizarrely quiet.

. . .

Somewhere in the mix of another batch of jumbled, terse messages on Loki's phone was a notification that the videocall conference was off. Ten messages later, it was back on and moved up a half hour. Then it was off again. Maybe.

Loki reloaded the mailbox, shifting a little where he sat crosslegged on a cozy woven blanket stretched across the loamy inn floor. It was finally empty, at the one time he could use a definitive answer as to what the hell was going on back at the office. He looked up at the faint sound of someone passing through the hall beyond his room, marked whoever it was automatically as not-Thor and not-threat, and then flicked to the spam mailbox to be sure he hadn't missed anything.

Then he refreshed the box again. Nothing. His thumb wavered over the call button, pausing as he tried to determine how much he actually wanted to talk to another person now that he was finally in a quiet, peaceful place for the first time in days, and then hit the call.

"Y'ella." Mack sounded half-dead, though he still picked up within two rings. "The vidcall, right?"

"That."

"It's off." Loki almost heard the irritated expression. "There was some scheduling thing, then a cross-language muff-up, then there was something else… whatever. It was a mess. Ask me, I think an intern forgot to tell a dude how late this thing was going to happen and he went around and tanked the whole call last minute in favor of sleeping."

"There but for the grace of Gods go we."

"I know, right?" A huge, jaw-cracking yawn filled the line.

"Go rest, Mackenzie. I'll check in by text tomorrow." Loki took the phone away from his ear at the sound of another footstep beyond. Still no one important. He frowned. "I'll be back in person the next day regardless, handle another round of papers."

"Right. All good out there?"

"It's about as expected. Go sleep." Loki rang off and stared at the twining, thick branches that made up the wall of the room. Something seemed off, a little jarred somehow, something he couldn't put a finger on. But then, that was the way of life these days. It was no doubt nothing but his tired, distracted mind. Better he get some rest. By morning, he was sure, all hell would break loose again.

. . .

"You're an Asgardian, sir." A tankard, a proper large one full to near-dripping, of honeyed mead dropped onto the table before Thor. "My best regards to you and your homeland, good visitor."

Thor looked at the surprise gift, then at the smiling Elf that had brought it. A tall and pretty fellow, spindly and wrapped in greys that looked simple enough at first. Until Thor noticed the intricate layering and the fine, twinkling threads that set the grey to a cloudlike sparkle when the candlelight flickered right. A nobleman of some kind. The fine, triangular face seemed to wink entire down at him. "A good way to introduce yourself."

"Not that I've quite done so, yet, sir. My name is Leamhan. Your companion left and the table seemed far too empty, so I thought I might offer hospitality."

"It's welcomed." Thor pulled the mug closer to him, giving it an appreciative sniff. "I am Thor."

"Thor?" The Elf flung a hand to his chest, dropping onto the bench across from him with a poleaxed expression that looked just as lovely on that well-made face. Leamhan quickly rose again, less elegant than his first motions. He looked humbled. "Your Highness, I had no idea. I'm sorry for my familiarity."

Thor laughed with a short wave of his hand. "Please, no. I'm not much for noble games these days."

"Aye, no small number of your recent adventures are legend already. The humans are fond of you." Leamhan looked wistful. "So long since the Sundering. I've hardly seen the lands of my mothers since I was a child, not with my own eyes."

"You're fae? I thought you Elf." Thor bobbed his head. "Not to be disrespectful, nor to remark on things not my business."

"It's no trouble at all. My mother and her mother were fae-born, and when the choice to cross came 'bout, she - and I, young - followed her lover to these new shores." Leamhan grinned. "She does well at his side from then to now, and I've nothing to complain of. But still, there's something in the blood that remembers the old mounds of our forebears and wishes to go home."

"Aye, that's something I think I understand." Thor took a drink of the mead, names named and matters seeming fair enough. He wasn't fool enough anymore to take mysterious food or drink at random, Asgardian hardiness notwithstanding, but an elf poisoning a prince in a public pub seemed farfetched. "It's excellent."

"Local, of course. The brewers court a nearby bee-Queen and her kith not far from here, and with the tithe they earn they make a batch of this particular brew twice a century."

A lot of that sounded not particularly normal to Thor, who had also mostly slept through the overview of an introductory session on hive-keeping and other types of apiculture, but all right, he'd go with it. "I laud them," he said, going for generally complimentary. "Nothing like it in Asgard." That part was completely true.

Leamhan dipped his head once, quickly. Then some flicker of worry passed across his face. "You haven't been approached without your invitation by others yet, have you?"

"We've not, no." Thor studied him, wondering why the sudden change in mood.

Relief came next. "Thank gods. Your traveling companion is a dour-looking fellow, it likely deters them." Leamhan leaned in, blinking rapidly. "Compa-I'm a damned fool. Both princes!" He shook his head as Thor rumbled a chuckle. "I'd be in trouble with my betters if I let slide I slipped that. Well, that would do it, speaking of such legends. No one would dare try to ploy the trickster prince without a lot of risk and a fair cup of foolishness in hand. That is good. Very good."

"Is something going on we have not seen?"

"Always, highness." Leamhan rolled his eyes. "There's always something going on in sweet Alfheim."

The man's aggravation sounded much like Loki's. Thor couldn't resist a new grin.

"There are, well, factions that look for sympathy from the unaware. An Asgardian, our good patrons and protectors, well, that would be irresistible to try and sway. And the Odinsons - a treasure incalculable."

Thor leaned back, drinking the mead at a comfortable pace. "My brother did make me aware that such things were afoot. He's indeed quite knowledgeable about such things."

"Thank goodness."

"The Oberonese, I was told." Thor continued to watch Leamhan as the man winced. "Often up to something at the fringes of the Queen's watch."

"They are." Leamhan leaned back, a flutter of relief creeping in. "Well, thank Gods and grass and all the springtime leaves. I've no need to worry over our land's guests being harangued this time." He shook his head. "It's wearying, I tell you."

"You're a watchman?"

"Ehh. What you might call an intelligence serviceman, in service to my lady. Fortunately I am rarely needed to be sly, for I have too much fashion sense to pretend to be what I'm not."

"You and Loki might get along."

"Or not, you never know with us types." The angular face did that full-wink again, just as at introduction. "May I impress upon you a single favor, your highness?"

"As prince of Asgard, sir, if there's something I could do to help the security of your realm, I must pledge my hand." Thor finished off the mead and set the mug aside.

"Oh, nothing so grand. Just… if someone does try to meddle in your affairs, do let me know." Leamhan pressed a single blue gem onto the tabletop. "This whistlestone will pass me a message. Anything odd you encounter, any strange word. Let it be my problem and none of yours."

An old artifact, but a familiar enough type. Thor reached out and put a single fingertip along the cabochon surface of the stone. It was warm to the touch. He'd have Loki look at it in the morning, to be sure it was safe. Thor suspected it was. This man seemed forthright enough. "Of course, friend Leamhan."

"I'll let you to your night, then. A warm and pleasant one, and with another tankard of good mead sent over." Leamhan slipped out of the booth with a final bob of his head.

It was indeed very good mead.