10.

. . .

They took Thor away after the reveal of the treasonous stone. Loki didn't know for certain where, but he was probably in the royal cells below. Loki was permitted to remain in the open holding area meanwhile, as a 'courtesy.' Loki did his absolute best to not scream where the Elves could shove their courtesy, how, with how much force, and what they could do with themselves afterward, but his face got a fair amount of it across.

Delicately, Adenium had pretended to not notice his stress.

Meanwhile, he paced once again. He had windows to the good clean air of Alfheim, and there was only one guard, and someone had decided he was no risk of flight, and his own confusion about all of this made him even angrier. It was not the usual thing for him to be treated more genially in a prison, and the fact that the Elves were currently seeming to confer on what even to do with him damn near blew his mind.

In short, his reputation in Alfheim was better than Thor's. By a lot.

Loki took all emotions he didn't like to deal with as an excuse to be upset. He was upset frequently. It drained his energy, that much anger and confusion. Part of him suspected that's what the Elves hoped for, to keep him passive and non-homicidal.

The idea that Thor had, behind his back, connived with some Elf or fae idiot to undermine the royal house wasn't even laughable anymore. It was insane. It was simply not a question to him, 'evidence' be damned. All the fair questions a man or woman could have about Loki's reputation and reliability never extended to Thor. Not even in Loki's darkest thoughts.

The evidence had been planted somehow. By that Mooar, possibly, an Oberon lackey intending to blackmail a prince into having no choice but to help him. It was the sort of thing the Oberonese had done before.

The scenario popped into Loki's head with that kind of tactical clarity he specialized in.

Oh, good prince! Has no one helped you? The libraries can be difficult for visitors. Thor had remembered the man's words well enough, told Loki when he'd gotten time enough to ask. The guild pinged, sharpened, dug deeper. He should have been there.

The vague, watery image of Mooar - Loki had no firm idea what he looked like, only that scrap of description from his brother - patted with real warmth at Thor's arm, right where the little blue pouch hung. A quick finger, maybe even a trace of magic, and Mooar went on his way with grace. To collaborators, likely. To tell them that Oberon's schemes will have a prince to move across the board, whether he wills or no.

Loki shook his head, pushing away the vision. He didn't have proof that was how it went down. But it was a decent theory. To investigate it, he would have to get out of this room. He would need time.

From his things, in the guard room next door, he heard the soft sound of his phone, no doubt causing the keepers to puzzle at it, and his guilt and his guts began to churn all over again, feeding on the anger and building something else in its place.

. . .

Finally it was that Adenium again, at the open door. "I'm sorry for the wait, Your Highness. It needed to be that we had to confer. And to that end, and to our sorrow, for we wanted to keep this matter quick and neat, I must, on behalf of our Queen, ask for you to come with me to her throne. Will you, Prince?"

Loki opened his mouth, strained and exhausted and still ready to struggle, and then willfully took calmer control over himself. There was little point in fighting Adenium outright. She'd proven herself strong, and the Queen was a decent sort. He might have better luck with her. Better a different tack. "Of course I will. May I request a singular courtesy?"

"Which is?" She seemed chagrined for some reason, possibly willing.

"I have a device with my confiscated things. A Midgardian device, a communicator. I'm sure by now the throne is aware that I have been there of late more than I've been in Asgard. All I want is a moment to look at it. Send a message back, if possible. A mundane one. They are not in a position to interfere with this situation." Unfortunately true. If he thought for a second he could yell for help and have a pack of SHIELD agents turn up and break Thor out of prison, he'd give it a shot. Regrettably, he knew full well he'd end up with dead humans and more guilt. Elvish spears were as deadly as Asgardian ones.

The buzzing from the other room had been persistent. His nerves, already not in the best of shape, were now totally shot.

She studied him, not suspiciously. Possibly the guards had complained to her about the sound. "You must be supervised, and I'm sure I have no need to express any of our fears, should your behavior be anything but what you say."

"Of course not." She stepped aside to let him pass, and he felt her eyes on him as he swept his way to the guard's desk.

The phone had an obscene number of messages on it. Loki ignored most of them, filtered it for the right keywords. The emergency words.

They highlighted quickly for him, to his dismay. Something newly important on Midgard, something Latverian, or at least a situation masquerading almost perfectly as such. The first whisper of an actual attack in the making, an assault on the UN conference now becoming - or at least seeming - a very immediate reality. Yet more stress, either way. They needed him ASAP to confer on the situation. He had taken that first look at the Wakandan intel, which now had fresh relevance. And of all of SHIELD, he was one of two living agents who had walked within Latveria.

Gods.

His fingers curled around the phone. Loki could run, dart out of the palace so fast the guards wouldn't be able to stop him, and slipstream his way through one of the hidden doors between realms. But if he did that, Thor would be the one to pay for his escape, and he would damage relations between Asgard and Alfheim, even possibly sour any potential future relationship Alfheim would have with Midgard itself.

All for human security. Because his friends needed him, and that mattered. But the cost…

Loki's hand shook with barely contained stress as he clenched the phone, then he put it back down on the desk, in front of the guard. "Thank you," he said to Adenium, over his shoulder. Nothing of what he felt, what he'd almost done, was in his voice. He didn't know what to do. "I'm ready to see the queen."

. . .

Queen Aelsa Featherwine treated her throne like an accessory, a thing to ignore in the background while she moved, quick and light around her audience chamber. Loki had been in her presence once before, when he was young. As a courtesy before his time in one of the sorcerous academies out in the trees. He remembered that hour well, and he thought he liked her. Aelsa seemed from his knowledge to be intelligent, often kind, and also curiously stubborn when she decided to be. She looked unchanged from those long ago years. Small, lithe, with pure white hair braided up on her pure white brow. It showed off the length of her pointed Elven ears - and the two tiny elklike ivory horns on her brow that marked her kinship with those Fae that had lived in Alfheim in the ages before their own sect of explorers crossed on to Midgard.

She was a paradox in her own realm. The structure of severe bureaucracy that kept the Light Elves safe in city society seemed equally like an armored shell designed to keep her and her free personality in - and she permitted it. She exercised her most powerful rights of rulership at rare intervals, allowing her councils to pass most orders without her input.

Loki had never understood why, although since his own downfalls perhaps now he could cobble together a theory. Nor did he fully understand why she had called him to the floor before her, indicating a willingness to act directly today - she had allowed other, worse scenarios to play out without a word.

He looked at the rest of the attendees, noticing the usual thin faces of long-term councilors and merchants and bards. There was also a group of ambassadors milling along the other side of the room, and among them were a tall, thickly built Dwarf, a handful of Xandarians, and, meeting his own eyes with silent curiosity, a surprisingly short jotun woman. She still towered over many of the others, even himself, but not by much. One of Farbauti's loyalists, he assumed, his mind still too drained and distant to really study any of them.

She inclined her head to him, slight but firm, and he returned the gesture with eyes lidded in respect. That seemed to please her, and she looked away with delicate propriety.

Aelsa paused along the far wall of her chamber, a wall of translucent marble that showed the shadows of the ivy that grew on the outside, and she looked at him from its lee. The shadows sharpened her face, gave her a dual mask. Then she stepped back into the light and gave him that brilliant, beaming smile he saw once before. "Prince Loki!" Then it vanished again as she clasped her hands together, like a magic trick. "It's a conundrum, really. I'm so glad to see you again in Alfheim, and yet, also sorrowful it has to be under these circumstances."

Loki dipped his head low, saying nothing yet. She had a tendency to speak quickly and at length, her voice like chimes over soft water. It was better to wait for her to set an opening.

Her expression brightened again. "But let's speak of lighter things first, to ease the room." She flitted swiftly towards the other end of the chamber. A handmaiden tried to intercept her, do the work of pouring a small, fine little cup of honeywine, and Aelsa gently slapped the hand away. "Nobles to nobles, dearest, let me at my work."

The handmaiden swallowed and pulled away again. A council plant, no doubt. Another rein and check on a Queen that played an entirely different game than the ones they cared about. A second cup, and Aelsa was on her way back to Loki. She gave it to him with a graceful flourish. "All the secrets of the nine realms, our pasts, our chains, and the rest aside. To this cup I offer what matters, us alive tomorrow, we over the future bestride." She lifted her cup to him.

Loki drank, still silent, wondering what riddles were buried in that toast. He had never been able to read the Queen, not even in her written missives that usually formed communication between Asgard and the Elvish realm, and that had always made him admire her more than a little. He wished he could enjoy this, but he was torn in too many directions. None of him was really here.

Aelsa drank hers and took the little cup back, turning towards the counter. "Tell me you still practice your magic in the way of old, from when you were so little enough for even me to yet tower over you. Oh!" She snapped back around, not even bothering to notice the surprise that crept onto his face. "But you don't know. That time you came to our court was not the time we first met. I didn't tell you that then, did I?"

Aelsa didn't wait for a response. "Frigga introduced us. You were still small and pudgy and you cooed, mostly, and I think you spit up once but no matter, and she said you were going to be an excellent sorcerer. I could tell, she was right, you had the scent on you. Fresh and crisp, like a good snowstorm where the world is all quiet and white after. And other things, too, like that, but I could tell it wasn't seemly to bring it up. A secret is a secret. Oh, but I miss my sister queen." She looked up at him, seeming to forcefully pause herself. "You do still practice?"

"Your Majesty, magic is one of the few true callings of my life, a thing I would even dare admit to love. It is the skill I continue to devote to as rightfully as I may, and as my mother predicted." The most honest thing he could say, a gift to offer the ancient queen. It struck him, suddenly, that his own words had an echo to them that he hadn't realized. He couldn't concentrate on that right now, there was no time, no place to center himself. But he sensed movement from the cluster of ambassadors.

"That is good, Prince Loki. That is very good." She left the cups on a different, smaller table, distracted from her original course. "Your brother. We've an issue."

"I'm afraid we do, Majesty."

"Adenium has told me. I like her, she's small and clever and wise and she doesn't care for nonsense. She doesn't like me at all, but she respects me, and tells she doesn't like my choices, and why she doesn't, all with honest words when I ask her for advice, and for that I know I can trust her." The small hands clapped together. "That's useful, young prince. So very useful to me. And she's told me the problem, and she didn't want to - well, that's not quite true, I expect you'd gather, it's the council, they didn't want to bother me with it, and they put my Adenium in the middle of it, and she's a bit grump about it." Aelsa laughed, ringing and happy, glinting enough with magic to light the enchanted candles a little brighter. "But it's the Odinsons, and I haven't seen you in forever, and some things are so important yet they get left aside. Small things are important, good prince, and so I like to pay attention to those when I can. So I gave an order - I did give an order, didn't I?"

"Your Majesty," said another of the handmaidens when the Queen swiveled around to look for an answer. "You did."

"Oh good. Then he's on his way up." Aelsa seemed to glide around the room again, as light as her fae heritage, becoming almost translucent in the filtering light. "Leamhan, that is. This was his operation. Leamhan, my little moth man, always on the lookout for threats to us from without and within. He's another smart one, tall and clever, and he likes a good jape. A fine man to drink with." Aelsa beamed at Loki. "But enough, you know about Leamhan. Or your brother does, doesn't matter. Suffice to say, I am aware of the problem. I am asking Leamhan to join us, as I would like him to answer a question for me that I think is terribly important."

Aelsa snapped her fingers as a rattle came at the chamber door, a tinkling little noise. "And that's him!"

Loki turned to watch the new arrival, overwhelmed by that barrage of words, realizing instinctively there had been something important, obviously and terribly important hidden in there. Leamhan was spindly and grey and light, a moth indeed with a dour expression. The moth man spoke, as fair and breathy as his looks. "Your Majesty. I came as quick as the word."

"On wings as light as aether, good Leamhan. As you do." Aelsa pointed at him. "I have two princes here in my home and I am told we cannot trust them. Leamhan, tell me, is this the truth? The whole of it, or part of it? You will tell me, yes?"

"Your Majesty… We are still attempting to sort out the events properly. I can avow that our concerns about Prince Thor remain firm."

Suddenly, oddly quiet, Aelsa regarded the tall Elf. Only the trace of energy around her, that eternal signature of magic seemed to waver. Loki watched her, saw one eyebrow raise in a demand. He himself wanted to yell at the Elf, demand answers as to why he'd approached Thor so cheerfully, if this was to be Leamhan's new turn.

Leamhan seemed to creak from within under the Queen's pressure, his gaze darting to Loki. "But we do not have the grounds to say both princes are tangled alike in this matter."

"Well, there you go. I should like to release this one meanwhile." Loki tried to not jerk at the abruptness of her statement. She'd said it as casually as asking for a light supper. "Can you speak advice to me on that?"

"I… Majesty, I can only advocate for the good Prince Loki to be permitted to roam the palace and no more, until my investigation is done."

"And how long will that take?" The words shotgunned out of Loki, the ghost of a phone's ring in his ear. He'd strained forward towards the queen, not realizing it. The handmaidens stared at him, stunned at the breach. "I apologize for the disruption, but I must. I am needed elsewhere as much as I am needed here. An emergency. Please."

Aelsa looked at him, and there was something sharp in her eyes. Kind, but sharp. "Adenium told me. The little device, it jingles so much. Cute people, those humans. They look like we do, small and plump and silly - oh no, wait, those are the babies. Just like ours. They do grow up, but so quickly and for so brief a time, and some of them stay plump. But they're all funny and cute still. Puppies, but thinking and bright. You like them?"

Honesty again, by way of desperation. "I've come to, Majesty. And these few like me. They sent me a message, saying they are in trouble. I need to help them, and then return to my brother's side to see his trouble set right. For I am certain this is all some terrible mistake. You've my promise, that's all I need."

She studied him, again with that same, sudden stillness, and Loki thought about masks, and why he'd instantly liked her, hundreds of years ago, a younger prince still figuring his ways around a good shield spell and how to not trip over his own feet at a political moot. "Oh, dear."

He realized amidst the hurtle of his thoughts that she hadn't said it aloud. Just that thrum of deep magic.

Alfheim had mysteries to it that it itself had never riddled out.

"I can't put my office's faith in that, Your Majesty." Leamhan looked apologetic. "It's not about trust, it's a safety protocol. For Alfheim. As long as we're untangling this mess - and to be sure, I would like nothing more than to find Prince Thor's innocence in the end, as well - I must have access to witnesses and evidence. Even a brief departure, with a promise to return, it might carry some legal risk. I can't vouch for it, my lady."

Loki strained against his inner self once again, within a hair of screaming that he could have simply fled when he had the chance, but hadn't, and then he cursed himself for not having done it.

"Mmmmmmmm." Aelsa folded her hands together, looking disappointed. She swept the room with a glance, seeming to think. She didn't react to the prince all but vibrating nearby. The magic around her seemed to ebb and flow. "How sorrowful. Is there nothing in our laws that allow us to bend to honor?"

"Majesty." One of the ambassadors spoke, a low and rich voice, and Loki, now with his back to them, realized it was the jotun. He knew that type of accent, a shaman's accent, from the sharp-winded mountains where the Queen had once come from. He knew that, but not much more. "Majesty, I will advocate for the prince. I, for Jotunheim, will mark his pledge to return, and to maintain contact with the realm if he must remain there for just cause."

Loki didn't look at the ambassador, though shock ricocheted through his body. A Frost Giant pledging their word for an Asgardian's honor, remarkable under any circumstance. For him - once it would be a raw miracle. But instead, by chance, he was looking at Leamhan, and he saw, for a microsecond, the expression change to frustration's sneer.

The pit in Loki's belly grew, dropped, and became something blacker than the night. Something was deeply and terribly not right here, something he hadn't predicted. Loki's face turned back to Aelsa, and he gave up nothing except his otherwise true look of tension.

"Oh, well, that's perfect." Aelsa seemed to notice none of this, and now Loki suspected she saw all of it. She was clapping now, as if for a curtain call. "I have absolutely no doubts that today's Prince Loki will remain true to Jotunheim's honor. Imda, you do me a great kindness."

Somehow Imda, the jotun ambassador, did not laugh at this. Neither did Loki. The darkness in him continued to swirl, and he tamped it down to wait for a better time.

"Imda, my good prince, please, set quick your terms and vow with each other, and by my word I'll set you on your way to your friends. Oh, but do come back, do!"

Imda stepped forward from the other ambassadors before Loki could move, a broad blue hand raised in a gesture of peace. "Prince Loki, I need no term or vow. I, for my Queen, choose to trust in the honor of Asgard's house. Return as quick as you can, and with my word, I set you free." She bowed to him, a woman's curt but graceful dip, and Loki could have bubbled over with a thousand new questions, but there was no time or place for them. He had to hurry, had to.

Leaving Thor alone in Alfheim would lead to new trouble for him, Loki had no doubt. Torn between two places that desperately needed him, Loki made his own bows, uncomfortable with his freedom coming from passivity and truth and little else, and then all but fled towards the passages that would take him to his confiscated gear and then, just as quickly, back to Earth.