The king was a taller, skinny man, laid back on his throne as if it was some sort of couch with a glass of wine. He looked perpetually tired and he looked up at his commander as the other man bowed, "go away, Sol."

"A party of strangers wishes to speak with you," the other giant, Sol, explained to his commander who merely sighed and waved a hand at him, wishing him to go away.

"I'm not in," the king replied, "actually I'm out."

"They hail from Asgard, and evoke the right of parley, your majesty."

He sat up and faced his lieutenant, "stop grovelling, Sol, if there's one thing I can't stand, it's people grovelling," his lieutenant got up, "show them in," then he grinned, "I can't wait for this," he said it so sarcastically that Loki wasn't quite sure if he was being sarcastic.

Loki nodded to the king as his party approached, "King Byleist of Jotunheim, we seek a humble audience with you."

"What do you want, ex-prince Loki?" Byleist sipped some more of his wine, grinning at him over the goblet, his red eyes laughing, "As you can see, I am a very busy individual making the most of what little downtime I get . . . away from my brother," he said the last bit with a joking contempt and Thor cast an angry glance at Loki, who merely shrugged.

"We wish to trade," it was Bella that spoke this time. Her voice was completely neutral, and that was when Loki knew that something was wrong. His hand curled around hers.

"And who are you supposed to be?"

"Bella of Detroit," she answered, and Loki looked at her with angry green eyes, "what? You get to do it."

"We want information. Who kidnapped Sophia De Martino and why?"

Byleist smiled, then laughed, "And your great gatekeeper Heimdall cannot see this? Like I have always said, the pointy helmet does not make the man," he shook his head, bemused, "after his many years of service making sure we did not destroy the planet in Odin's sleep, he is finally going blind and is in need of the looking glass."

"Cut the crap, King Bill," Bella snapped, "if you know anything, you had better tell me now or I swear to God I'll-."

"Bella," Loki snapped, his hand tightening around hers, "calm," he demanded, "Now, do you have the information we need?"

"Oh, yes," Byleist smiled at them, rubbing his finger over the rim of his goblet, "and I'll give it to you, for the right price," he sipped his wine, "now will you be as kind as to show me your goods."

Loki nodded to Thor, who approached with the Casket, "is that good enough?"

Byleist swept himself off the throne to approach him, "the Casket of a Thousand Winters," he mentioned to it, "the symbol of an impotent wretch that stole the magic from the land around us and put it in a box because his ego could not allow others to have an ounce of magical power," he grinned, "a stolen relic you wish to return to aid the futile search for one mortal," he eyed Loki, "there could be so many more . . . constructive things that you can possibly make of this," he grabbed Loki's throat, "no wonder your father has no trust in you."

Thor dropped the Casket and leaped forward, but as he did, Loki held out a protective forearm. The tone of his skin changed, blue-grey, and with distinctive patterns on his face. Byleist drew away as if he had been burned, wide eyed and shocked. He gripped his own hand in disbelief.

"He is not my father," Loki sneered, "which is why I am not a prince."

Byleist was breathing heavily, "You are a prince," he told Loki, "You are my brother."

There was a long, awkward silence.

"What?" Loki finally asked.